


To Love a King

by Middle_Earth_Mama



Series: To Love [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dain is a Jerk, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Poor Bilbo, Protective Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middle_Earth_Mama/pseuds/Middle_Earth_Mama
Summary: "“I never assumed that I could – that he could -,” Bilbo tried feebly.Dain leaned in close enough for Bilbo to feel his hot breath over his face. “He could never have cared for you. Was he not clear enough when he threatened to cast you to your death?” Bilbo pinched his face up in pain and clenched his hands into fists. Dain smiled triumphantly.“And Fili and Kili?” Bilbo barely managed to whisper out.Dain harrumphed. “Fili and Kili will not be far behind him,” he responded with disdain.Bilbo closed his eyes again and shook his head. A few tears managed to escape despite his determination not to let this vile dwarf see him so distraught. “Will..- Will there be a ceremony? May I pay my respects?”Dain sneered at him. “I am under direct orders from the true Company of Thorin Oakenshield not to allow that to happen. Did you think they would still want you around after you betrayed their king? After you stole the king's jewel?”"





	1. Chapter 1

Bilbo circled the now familiar camp, trying without success to calm his frayed nerves. He trudged along the frozen ground, winding his way back towards the healing tent, where he had been denied access since the end of the battle. He knew he would still not likely be admitted, but he had to know how his friends fared. Thorin, Fili, and Kili had been unconscious since the battle, and Bilbo feared for their lives. The rest of the company had done a fair job of keeping him in the loop, sharing updates with him as the hours ticked by. Bilbo did not care much for Thorin's cousin Dain, who had stopped him every time he tried to get past the guards to see the king. As Thorin's cousin, he was in charge while the king was injured. Bilbo had hoped to spot one of his friends, getting the latest news before he reached the tent. He was not so lucky. There was no familiar face in the sea of indifferent dwarves as he picked his way to the healing tent. 

Upon reaching the tent, Bilbo sighed and let his shoulders drop in dismay as Dain marched out in front of him, arms crossed, and scowled down at him.  
“How fares the king and his nephews?” Bilbo asked as casually as he could manage.  
“Why is it you come to ask that same question nearly every hour? Why do you still linger here, with the quest finished? What do you care of the fate of a dwarven king? You are no dwarf, halfling,” came the cold response from the fierce dwarf. 

Bilbo looked up at Dain, leveling him with a determined look. He would not be intimidated by this fool, no matter how proud and fierce a warrior he may be.  
“I care,” Bilbo replied impatiently, “because he is my... friend. I crossed many lands and faced many perils at his side, and Thorin is...” Bilbo swallowed, “ Well, I care a great deal about his fate.”

Dain peered at Bilbo, but Bilbo did not lower his gaze. Dain searched the hobbit's face, eyes raking over him, as though he were trying to decipher a code. Bilbo fidgeted just a bit under such scrutiny, but held his ground quite firmly. Finally, Dain seemed to find what he was looking for. 

“So. What they say is true,” Dain said in a soft but dangerous tone. “The halfing has... feelings... for our king.”  
Bilbo felt a blush creep up his neck and ears, but refused to back down. He had not faced orcs and wargs and giant spiders just to be intimidated by this posturing ill tempered lummox.  
“I am not half of anything, thank you very much. And as far as my “feelings” are concerned, I'll thank you not to go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.”

At first, Dain looked taken aback at Bilbo's boldness. Then, a blazing fury overtook his features. His brow furrowed and his face reddened in his anger as a crazed fire ignited his eyes.  
“You will listen to me, you petulant creature,” Dain loomed over Bilbo menacingly. 

Bilbo backed up a couple steps despite himself. Dain was an intimidating figure at the best of times. In his wrath, he was terrifying. 

“The king is dead,” Dain bit out callously. Bilbo jerked in response, his spine going ramrod straight, eyes big as saucers in disbelief.  
“You have overstayed your welcome here as it is. The other dwarves? They have been laughing about your little fancy. We all have. How could you think he would ever return such affection? You are such a soft, simple creature. He was of the line of Durin, hewn from stone and the forges of Mahal himself, strong and unyielding. You would have been a burden to him. He. Was. A. King. Did you think he would have asked you to stay? Be his consort? Did you really think he could ever love you?” Dain laughed coldly, “You are a bigger fool than you look.”

 

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall. Thorin was dead? Bilbo's stomach fell to his feet, his heart a leaden weight in his chest. His breaths came out in raspy, shallow pants. He tried to keep himself under control, but his hands still shook at his sides as he leveled Dain with the most controlled look he could muster. He blinked rapidly, his vision was blurred, giving it the same foggy senselessness that had fallen on his mind. He swallowed dryly a few times and cleared his throat. 

“I never assumed that I could – that he could -,” Bilbo tried feebly.  
Dain leaned in close enough for Bilbo to feel his hot breath over his face. “He could never have cared for you. Was he not clear enough when he threatened to cast you to your death?” Bilbo pinched his face up in pain and clenched his hands into fists. Dain smiled triumphantly.  
“And Fili and Kili?” Bilbo barely managed to whisper out.

Dain harrumphed. “Fili and Kili will not be far behind him,” he responded with disdain.  
Bilbo closed his eyes again and shook his head. A few tears managed to escape despite his determination not to let this vile dwarf see him so distraught. “Will..- Will there be a ceremony? May I pay my respects?”  
Dain sneered at him. “I am under direct orders from the true Company of Thorin Oakenshield not to allow that to happen. Did you think they would still want you around after you betrayed their king? After you stole the king's jewel?”

“Right. I- ok.” Bilbo said lamely. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but thought better of it, and turned on his heel and strode away.  
Dain grinned to himself and spun around to return to the tent. He grabbed the edge of the canvas and swept the flap open, ducked in and strode inside. “Did you find him? Did you find Bilbo?” 

Dain pulled on a sorrowful look. “It seems the halfling has already headed home. I'm sorry cousin.”  
Thorin leaned his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes miserably. When he finally opened them, he leveled his cousin with a hard and scolding look. “He is not half of anything. And I am barely half without him.” The surrounding company all hung their heads sadly. Thorin turned away from his loyal dwarves in shame. Clearly, Bilbo could not forgive his horrendous actions against him that day on the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and full of angst. Sorry. I promise it gets better. More to come very shortly!

Bilbo had not stopped walking since his altercation with Dain. He had staggered off towards Dale, and figured he was still moving in that general direction, though he couldn't be sure. His brain was a muddled mess and it refused to accept what he had been told. Surely it could not be. Thorin could not be dead. And Fili and Kili would likely run up beside him at any moment, throwing their arms around him to tease him for his large and hairy feet. 

Bilbo grinned despite himself at the thought, until it hit him. 

They would never tease Bilbo again. There would be no grinning mischievous imps ruffling his hair and asking infuriating questions about his feet. They were surely on their way to meeting their uncle now. Bilbo lost himself to another bought of agonizing grief as the reality washed over him, stealing his very breath from his lungs and nearly stopping his heart.

Thorin was gone. 

Thorin was gone, and likely Fili and Kili were now gone as well. 

And the company he had grown so close to, had thought of as his dearest friends, saw him as a traitor. Bofur, the warmest of their company, who had welcomed Bilbo from the very start. Ori, the only living being who had ever been able to match Bilbo's whits. They had become close after Bilbo realized Ori was not suspicious of him like the others, just shy. Bilbo had put Ori at ease quickly, becoming fast friends. And Balin, wisest and reassuring, was very dear to Bilbo, always willing to share a pipe and a quick whit when Bilbo sought him out. The whole company had become like family to Bilbo. 

Or so he'd thought. 

Bilbo hit his knees as these thoughts consumed him like a plague of darkness snuffing out the sun. He sobbed shamelessly into his hands, ignoring the unforgiving rocky ground as it scraped his knees and shins, the biting cold air engulfing him in a numbing blanket. He could not say how long he wept, but when he finally came back to himself, it was dark. The land lay in foreboding shadow, every rock and lone bush disguised as potential threats waiting to pounce in the night. The wind picked up, swirling Bilbo's curls in a rush of cold clarity. He panicked for half a minute, before he realized he really didn't care what happened to him at this point. He had no close friends or doting family to get back home to. Nor did he have any here who would come looking for him. 

For a hobbit who tended to enjoy is solitude, Bilbo felt so terribly alone. He crawled off the road into a nearby bush, intent to lay there until the world was remade. 

* * * *

A muffled voice was the first thing Bilbo was aware of. He could not figure what it was saying, nor if it was familiar. He tossed his head from side to side. A pillow. His head must be resting on a pillow. He clenched his hands. 

Bed sheets? Where was he? Bilbo struggled to focus. Last he knew, he was.... Where, exactly? 

Suddenly, Bilbo remembered biting cold, plummeting darkness consuming him inside and out. A dull ache in the pit of his stomach and a stab to his heart filled in the rest. 

Thorin. Fili. Kili. 

Dain.

“Thorin,” Bilbo breathed painfully. His eyes flickered open, straining and blinking against the onslaught of light. A face slowly swam into view as his eyes adjusted. 

“Lord Elrond?”  
The elf in question smiled at him, obviously relieved. “Bilbo Baggins. We thought we were going to lose you,” Elrond said softly.  
“Where am I? What happened?”  
“Gandalf found you. You were nearly frozen, tangled in a bramble outside Dale. He tried to enlist the help of King Thranduil in healing you. Unfortunately, he was quite reluctant. What with your association with Thorin Oakenshield and apparent... burglary of a certain company from right under his nose.”

Bilbo shook his head in anguish, “Please, please don't mention...- I can't...” Grief and shame overcame Bilbo once again as he remember Dain's malicious words.  
“I'm sorry my friend. Was your parting bitter?”  
“I cannot speak of it. Please.”

Elrond frowned, concerned by Bilbo's jarring response. He nodded his agreement anyway, deciding to continue his explanation of Bilbo's sudden awakening in Rivendell.  
“Luckily, Gandalf was able to barter help from the eagles before they departed from Ravenhill. Gandalf was able to sustain you long enough to be carried here for more thorough treatment.”

Elrond's account of the events leading up to this moment allowed Bilbo enough time to master himself, at least for a few minutes.  
“How long have I been... under,” Bilbo asked Elrond.  
“Ten days,” was the somber response. 

Bilbo's eyes went wide with shock at this proclamation. Ten days? Oh dear.

Elrond seemed to understand the concern on Bilbo's face. “There there, dear friend. All is well. You are on the mend, and once you have built up a bit of strength again, you may part for your home at your leisure. Until then, please feel free to explore, wander, or partake in whatever pleases you. You are safe and most welcome here Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo smiled as genuinely as he could manage. “I thank you, Lord Elrond. I owe you my life.”  
“Nonsense, Master Baggins. You owe me nothing.” Elrond smiled as he stood from Bilbo's bedside and strode across the room. “Let me know if there is anything else you require,” he added. He opened the door, revealing an elf carrying a tray laden with food. The elf brought the tray to Bilbo's bedside and placed it on the nightstand, bowed, then followed Elrond gracefully out of the room. 

Bilbo looked at the tray and crinkled his nose. He felt such despair, even food could not tempt him. He rolled over and curled up on his side, pulling the furs up over his head.

The next several days came and went in a blur of agony and sorrow. Bilbo would no longer answer the door when anyone knocked. He took only a handful of bites of food offered to him by the elves. He would not speak, and barely rose from the bed. He continued on like this for quite some time. Days? Weeks? Bilbo could not be sure. Nor did he much care.


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo's door opened without so much as a knock. He didn't even look up as Gandalf strode across his room. “Bilbo Baggins, it is so good to see you awake, my friend. How are you faring?”

Bilbo only stared blankly at the far wall in response, as though he did not even know Gandalf was there.

“Bilbo?” Gandalf prodded the hobbit's arm tentatively. Finally, Bilbo slowly slid his gaze over to Gandalf, but seemed to be looking through him.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said emptily. The wizard frowned and Bilbo's head laid back and his eyes found the ceiling. 

“Bilbo, are you well?” Gandalf tried again. 

There was no reply. 

Gandalf stared after him, concerned for his little friend. Was he ill? No. That could not be. Elrond had the skill to heal most any ailment Bilbo could have been suffering from. 

Except one of a broken heart. 

He could see the loss and emptiness in the hobbits eyes and feared for the health of his friend. Bilbo was looking quite thin and pale, and his lack of responses was most troubling. He had thought Bilbo and Thorin came to an understanding at the end of the battle. Had they not parted as friends? 

Gandalf had his suspicions about the dwarf king's fondness for the hobbit, but even if Thorin had revealed such intentions, surely Bilbo would not respond so horribly to it? Gandalf sat on the bench and pulled out his pipe, mulling over the possibilities.

* * * * *

Gandalf had long since given up his pursuit of information regarding Bilbo and Thorin's parting. He had finally coaxed Bilbo in to a couple very limited conversations. Gandalf had poked and prodded to get Bilbo to talk to him. Every time he so much as mentioned any member of the company, Bilbo would become irate and tell Gandalf he “Would rather not ever speak of them again.” Unless of course Gandalf brought up Thorin's name, in which case Bilbo would burst to tears and become inconsolable and unresponsive for at least an entire day. 

Gandalf only brought Thorin up one time.

Whatever the dwarf king had said or done to upset Bilbo so severely, he was going to find out. The only way he was to accomplish that seemed to be trekking back across Middle Earth to speak to the fool himself. He swept through Rivendell, a man on a mission, and found Lord Elrond on a balcony overlooking the vast gardens. Elrond nodded in acknowledgment as Gandalf approached him. 

“Lord Elrond, I will be leaving again. The state of our little hobbit is most troubling. I intend to get to the bottom of this immediately. I will send word when I reach Erebor, and hopefully I will have answers to share.”

Elrond nodded. “I will notify you if there is any change. I fear Bilbo is fading. Hopefully, the king under the mountain will have answers as to why.”  
Gandalf nodded gravely. “That is what I intend to find out.” He said his good byes to an empty shell of a hobbit and immediately set out for Erebor. 

* * * * *

Thorin sat upon his throne, his elbow on the arm rest, chin resting on his clenched fist. He seemed to be looking at the gray haired dwarf in front of him, who was speaking, but he had long since lost interest and was staring off just over the dwarf's shoulder. Balin stood next to the throne, and, noticing the kings distracted gaze, elbowed Thorin's shoulder discreetly. 

Thorin's gaze snapped back to the dwarf before the throne, who was looking at him expectantly. What was he talking about? He could not for the life of him remember anything the dwarf had been saying. Fili, standing to Thorin's left, noticed his uncle's predicament and quickly jumped to his rescue. “Our scholar has unearthed many legal documents since the reclaiming. The king and I will personally see to it that your claims are investigated. We will be sure that mine is signed over to the direct heir of its previous owner.” 

The dwarf bowed and took his leave. Balin stepped forward to address the court. “The king will see to the rest of your concerns tomorrow. We are adjourning for the day.” He waved the rest of the dwarves present out of the room and turned around to face Thorin. 

“Laddie, you are quite distracted.” Thorin scrubbed his hand over his face and turned his head away from his advisor. 

“I know,” he answered defeated.  
Kili moved around his brother and took a step closer to his uncle, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
“We miss him too, uncle.”

Thorin closed his eyes as he felt them begin to water again. He did not know why the pain of Bilbo's departure still hurt as though it had happened yesterday. Months had passed, and he had no one to blame but himself for Bilbo's hasty departure. 

Thorin was pulled from his dark thoughts by the sound of quick footsteps entering the room. He looked up as Gandalf the Gray strode in.

“Hail Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain!” Gandalf greeted Thorin formally. 

The king had no patience for such formalities. “Gandalf. I must admit I am surprised to see you. Were you not escorting....” Thorin still could not bring himself to utter Bilbo's name.

“Yes, well that is what brings me here,” Gandalf wasted no time in getting to the point, which was strange considering his usual tendency to dance around his purposes with riddles and vague hints.  
He strode up to the throne, his robes billowing out behind him as he approached. He stopped only when he was close enough to nearly whisper to Thorin. “Bilbo Baggins is unwell, Thorin.”

Thorin looked up sharply at the mention of Bilbo's name, his eyes betraying the sorrow he felt upon hearing it. Gandalf's words sank in slowly. 

“What do you mean he is unwell?” he demanded, tone sharp and eyes full of concern.

“I need to know what exactly your last exchange with Bilbo was. Do not spare any detail,” Gandalf demanded.

Thorin sighed deeply. “You already know everything. I gave him my sincerest apologies for my actions against him. He said he had forgiven me, clearly words brought forth by the assumption I would not survive my injuries. I did not see him or speak to him after that moment.” Thorin finished his account blankly, the pain of the memory too much for him to allow himself feel.

Gandalf furrowed his brow, confusion clouding his gaze. “I fear there is more to this story than any of us know,” he said, to nobody in particular. His gaze snapped up as Ori entered the room. The scribe walked up to the throne and gave a hasty bow. “Mister Balin, you asked that I inform you at once if there is any word from....” Ori's gaze fell over Thorin hesitantly. 

“Yes, my lad, what word?” Balin demanded.  
“Elrond of Rivendell sends word to Gandalf,” again Ori looked at Thorin, unwilling to continue lest he upset his king and friend. 

“Go on, Ori,” Thorin encouraged, anxiety clouding his features like a brewing storm.  
“He says it is as Gandalf feared. Bilbo is fading.” Ori's voice was a sad whisper, heavy with sorrow. 

“And what exactly does that mean?” Thorin addressed the wizard.

“Hobbits will fade when faced with great heartbreak or loss. They stop eating, they become distant and silent, and their bodies slowly shut down until they simply.... fade away.”

As Gandalf finished, the dwarves around him stood silently, processing his grave words. 

Kili was the first to break the silence. With a determined face, he looked up at Gandalf. “What can we do to help him?”

Gandalf grinned at Kili's fortitude. “We need to know what has set off this turn of events. Did any of you see Bilbo before he left camp?”

Ori was the first to answer. “I saw him that morning. He asked after Thorin, as he did every day while the king was injured.”

Balin frowned. “If he was so concerned, why did he not come to see Thorin for himself?”

“Oh. Dain would not allow it. I thought everyone knew that,” Ori responded.

“Why would Dain keep Bilbo out of the healing tents?” Balin wondered aloud. 

Thorin looked up at Gandalf. “What exactly happened when you and Bilbo left?”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “I found Bilbo tangled in a bush outside of Dale. It was after dark, the day you had awoken, Thorin. He looked as though he may have been quite... emotionally distraught before he fell unconscious.” 

Thorin's face twisted in anger as realization dawned on him. “Dain.”  
“Uncle?” Fili approached him questioningly. 

“Dain must've said something to Bilbo. Why would he keep him from the healing tent? Why would Bilbo be so overwhelmed with despair that he would allow himself to fall unconscious in a bush, of all places, in the dead of night?” Balin put into words what Thorin and Gandalf were now thinking. 

“I feel you are right, Balin,” Gandalf muttered is agreement, “we must act quickly. I will send word to Elrond. We must have Bilbo brought here with haste if we are to help him. There is no time for me to go fetch him. He must leave immediately.” Gandalf nearly ran from the room, Ori on his heels.

Balin gave Thorin a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “What of Dain? He has already left for the Iron Hills.”

“I will send him a letter formally inquiring as to his interactions with our dear burglar,” Thorin answered dangerously, “and I hope for his sake that we are wrong. I sincerely hope he had nothing to do with Bilbo's current state.”

With that, Thorin rose from the throne and stormed out of the room, Balin struggling to keep pace, his beard flying about behind him like a great white bird. 

Fili looked at his brother, who had a familiar gleam in his eyes. 

“Kili, what are you scheming?”  
“What do you mean?” Kili attempted to look innocent, but Fili could not be fooled.  
“Kili....” Fili leveled his little brother with a scolding look.

Kili looked down, knowing he would not succeed without his brothers help anyway.  
“I am going to get Bilbo.”

Fili jumped a bit at Kili's declaration. “No, little brother. Gandalf has sent for him. I know Lord Elrond will ensure he is brought to us whole, and swiftly.”

Kili turned to Fili with a determined look. “Not swiftly enough. And I will not stand by and watch Uncle succumb to another bout of grief should something happen to his hobbit.”

Fili smiled at Kili's choice of phrase. “His hobbit indeed. I will go with you.”  
“No, you must stay here and help Thorin. You are the heir, your place is here.”

Fili was taken aback at the command in his little brothers voice. He looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. When had Kili's eyes filled with such wisdom? It was not a playful young dwarf who looked back at Fili, as it had been not a year ago. Kili was now a grown prince of Erebor. A true warrior of the Durin line if ever he had seen one. 

Fili sighed in defeat. “Alright Kili. But you must not go alone. Take a few members of the company with you. And send word to me whenever you can. You know I will fear for you. I'll distract Thorin so you can get far enough away that he cannot stop you.”

Kili embraced his brother. “Thank you Fili. I will return as quickly as I can with our burglar.” The two smiled at each other, before Kili hastened out of the room. Fili looked up as his brother ran back toward him, wrapping him in a warm embrace and then bashing their heads together a bit harder than was necessary. 

“Don't miss me too much,” Kili said with a chuckle as he dashed out again.  
Fili shook his head as his brother disappeared beyond the doorway.

* * * * *

Elrond sat at Bilbo's bedside, hoping for a sign of life from the little hobbit. Bilbo remained still as ever, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The door slammed open as a rather harried looking elf entered. “Lord Elrond, I bring word from Erebor. Gandalf, and King Thorin, request Bilbo be escorted to Erebor with haste.”

Elrond nodded. “I assumed this would be the eventual course we would have to take. Find Hador and Romon. I would have them travel with Master Baggins to the Lonely Mountain.”

The elf nodded and swept from the room to find Elrond's two most faithful guards. What a turn of events the last couple years had taken. Elrond would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the hobbit's condition. Most elves were indifferent to the suffering of other races, not for lack of empathy, but by necessity. Immortality had a way of making life unbearable if you attached too much of your own emotions into mortals. But Elrond could not help himself. He had grown quite fond of the hobbit, and even his company of ill-mannered dwarves. Elrond smiled to himself as he recalled said dwarves bathing in his fountain when last they met. 

His musings were interrupted when his guards moved silently into the room. Elrond nodded at each of them in greeting. “Hador. Romon. I charge you with the delivery of Bilbo Baggins to Erebor. Move as swiftly as you are able. Keep him safe. You will leave immediately. Go gather five of your best to accompany you, I will meet you at the gates.”

* * * * *

Kili found Tauriel in the stables. “Tauriel, just who I was looking for.”

Tauriel smiled knowingly. “Yes, Kili. I am going with you.”  
Kili looked at her in surprise. “How did you-”  
“The mountain is in an uproar, buzzing with the news that a Master Baggins, friend of the crown, has fallen ill and will be arriving before summers end. I knew you could not stand idly by and entrust the life of the beloved hobbit to a group of elves. Much as you have come to respect a fair few of them.”

Kili smiled and ran a hand into the silky hair at the back of Tauriel's head, gently pulling her forehead to his in a show of affection. “Just another reason I love you. You will not try to stop me when you know I am determined.”

“No, I do not think it would be possible to stop you, even if I were to try. But I will make sure you do not injure yourself or get lost on your way,” Tauriel grinned at him, eyes full of teasing humor.

“Well yes, if you were not to accompany me, I should be doomed to travel in circles until the end of all things.” Kili chuckled and began readying a handful of ponies.

“Who else will be joining us?” Tauriel asked casually.

“Oin, Bofur, Dori, Nori, and Ori. Though Dori tried his best to dissuade the youngest Ri.” He looked at Tauriel seriously. “Do not mention the black eye he is now sporting. I believe Dori will not be mothering his youngest brother for quite some time.”

Tauriel chuckled to herself at the thought.

By sundown, the six dwarves and the elf were prepared to leave, hoping to get a good distance away before their king could try to stop them. As they prepared to depart, Gandalf came walking into the stables. 

“Before you leave,” he began, causing all present to jump at his sudden appearance, “I will send word to the elves bearing the hobbit to meet you at our dear friend Beorn's cabin. From there, you can bring Bilbo through the Greenwood. With Tauriel as your guide, and Legolas I am sure will not be far behind, I trust this journey through the forest will be far smoother than the first.” 

Kili smiled at the wizard. “Thank you, Gandalf. We will return very soon.”

The young prince mounted his pony and led his own company off to gather their displaced burglar.

Gandalf was right. No sooner had Kili's little band of determined friends reached the border of the forest, than a familiar voice called out to them. 

“Entering the Greenwood without leave of the king?” Legolas called to them from where he was leaning casually against a tree. 

“Legolas!” Tauriel dismounted and ran forth to embrace her friend.

“I am under orders to see to it that no one enters our kingdom.” He looked to the dwarves, who were scowling at them from their ponies. “However, he said nothing of casually passing through it.” 

He looked at Tauriel as his voice lowered. “ I will help you avoid capture and reach the other side of the Greenwood.” Tauriel smiled and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. Kili couldn't help the huff that escaped him as he frowned petulantly at the elven prince. Tauriel spun around and gave him a reproachful look. He had the good grace to drop his gaze and sigh, thoroughly chastised. 

“Shall we be off then? We are wasting precious time,” Dori said to the agreement of the group. 

They set off into the forest with the elven prince and the former captain of the guard as their guides.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo opened his eyes. A canopy of trees began to fill his vision as the fogginess slowly cleared. He suddenly became aware he was moving. 

“Master Boggins?” a familiar voice questioned, the old nickname lacking the teasing tone it usually carried. 

Bilbo frowned. “Kili?” As he said his name, the face of the dwarf in question obscured his vision, wearing the most delighted smile Bilbo had ever seen upon it. 

“Ah, Kili. Finally.” Bilbo exhaled as though a weight had been lifted off of him. 

Kili looked at him questioningly. “Did you know I was coming to get you?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I was afraid I would be cursed to wander the land an empty wraith. But it seems mercy has been bestowed. Wait, Kili, why are you here? Shouldn't you be in the halls of Mahal or some such thing?” 

A look of understanding overcame the hobbit's features before Kili could put his confusion into words.  
“Ah, you are awaiting the elf maiden. Don't think I didn't see the looks exchanged between the two of you back in King Thranduil's dungeons. Oh Kili, I understand your pain. You look more troubled now than in life. I see the weight of the living carries over into the afterlife. There is much pain I myself still carry to verify that fact.” 

Tauriel's face joined Kili's, hovering over Bilbo.  
“Why Captain, how came you here? Oh, no Tauriel, don't tell me you took your own life. Or perhaps you fell in battle?”  
Tauriel was a proud elf, and she looked quite scandalized at the thought of a respectable warrior such as herself taking her own life.  
“I most certainly did not, Master Baggins. What in the name of the Valar are you on about? We are very much alive, as are you,” Tauriel's proclamation left Bilbo quite gobsmacked. 

In any other situation, Kili might've found Bilbo's expression quite humorous. As it was, he could only feel sympathy for the hobbit, who apparently thought him dead for the better part of the last six months. 

“Bilbo, who told you I was dead?” Kili asked, fearing he already knew the answer.  
“Dain.” Bilbo spat his name out as though it tasted vile on his tongue. 

Kili's face grew dark. Tauriel looked at him with concern. Never had her dwarf's face held such fury. She put a calming hand on Kili's shoulder.  
“Dain will come to regret his crimes against you, Master Baggins,” Kili's voice was laced with venom, and there was no denying the gravity of his anger. 

Bilbo closed his eyes wearily and allowed himself to rest as he tried to process. 

So Kili was alive. What about Fili? And there was no possible way for him to ask about Thorin just yet. He could not bring himself to hope for that. 

* * * * *

Though the journey through Mirkwood, or Greenwood, as Legolas kept reminding the dwarves agitatedly, was far smoother than any of them had anticipated, the forest still felt sick. The trees and very air held the same thick darkness as when they had entered it the first time. 

Bilbo fell in and out of consciousness, the heaviness of their surroundings affecting him more so than the dwarves in his weakened state. Oin checked him at every stop, reassuring himself that Bilbo was not worsening as they traveled. 

Ori often walked next to the little cart Bilbo was being transported in, keeping him entertained when he was awake, which was not often. He spoke of texts and scrolls he had found in the mountain's library, giving Bilbo a history lesson nearly every conversation. Bilbo didn't mind. He was always eager to devour any new knowledge he came across, particularly when it pertained to his beloved dwarves. 

But something still troubled Bilbo. Dain had told him the other dwarves were no friends of his. Perhaps Ori was an exception. Apparently Kili too. Maybe, since they were younger, they did not value loyalty as highly as their elders. Bilbo tried not to waste too much time worrying over it. No sense in working himself up when nothing could be done about it at the moment. 

* * * * *

When they finally reached the mountain, Gandalf met them at the gates. Bilbo was asleep, but looked far stronger than when the wizard had last seen him, since he had started eating again. He was still thin, but Gandalf was satisfied that he would eventually recover, given time and perhaps more than a few mouthfuls of food. 

The dwarves had Bilbo taken to the infirmary deep in the heart of the mountain, where Oin could keep a close eye on him. This is where Bilbo found himself the next morning, waking once again in confusion. He glanced around and took in his surroundings. The room he was in was large, by hobbit standards, and everything was green toned, as though it were made entirely of emerald crystals. Light danced across the ceiling, seemingly reflected off the surface of.... water? 

Bilbo sat up slowly, his muscles protesting the action after so much disuse. He glanced around and found that yes, there was a pool of water in the middle of the room, perhaps an underground spring? Steam wafted from the pool, translucent whispers of mist that evaporated quickly in the warm air. The bed he was in was one of five that lined the wall. It was comfortable, yet plain, covered in extra furs. A table stood next to a blazing fireplace on the opposite wall, covered in an assortment of dried herbs and silver instruments. Bilbo figured he must be in a healing chamber of some sort. 

Just then, the door opened and Oin strode in. “Bilbo! So glad to see you awake again, lad!” Bilbo managed a weak smile at Oin's enthusiasm, though he had just seen him the day before. 

“I'll go tell Balin. He insisted on speaking with you the moment you woke!” With that, the healer scampered off, leaving Bilbo to mull over the same worries he had been obsessing over for months. 

Why did Balin wish to speak to him? Would he be punished for his betrayal? He stole from the king, after all, regardless of his noble intentions. Was Dain now king? Was he sending Balin to arrest him? Or did Fili live and take over? Was Fili angry with him? Perhaps his hands were tied and he had no choice but to punish Bilbo for his crimes. 

Bilbo found that after coming out of his trance-like state in Rivendell, it was unbearable for him to be alone with his thoughts. It was nearly excruciating to be left to his own worry and grief with nobody and nothing to distract him. He drummed his fingers on his lap, his eyes darting anxiously from his fidgeting hands to the door. 

After what felt like an eternity, Oin returned with Balin, who looked nearly frantic until he laid eyes on Bilbo. 

Relief washed over Balin like a cool splash of water. He looked at Bilbo fondly.  
“Bilbo, I am so glad to see you.”  
Bilbo's terrified expression became muddled with uncertainty. Had he heard right?

Balin crossed the room quickly and gently grasped Bilbo's shoulders, placing his forehead against Bilbo's. “We were afraid we would never see you again, laddie.” 

Bilbo let out the breath he was holding and felt nearly giddy as he realized, these were still his dwarves. He was still their burglar, no matter what Dain had said. But Dain had been right about one thing, Bilbo was a fool. He was a fool for ever believing that bastard dwarf. Bilbo couldn't help the weak exhale of laughter that tumbled from his lips. 

Balin pulled back from him, smiling broadly at Bilbo's uplifted demeanor.  
“He hasn't looked this bright-eyed since Thorin embraced him on the Carrock!” Oin exclaimed. 

Balin nodded at Oin in agreement and turned back to Bilbo, who was now blushing and looking at his lap sadly.  
“Lad,” Balin started, “I hate to bombard you so soon after your arrival, but I need all the details. What did Lord Dain say to you before you left us?”

Bilbo swallowed dryly. “Well, he said... he said,” Bilbo closed his eyes again, trying to spit out the words that choked him even as he considered saying them aloud. 

Bilbo set his jaw determinedly.  
“He said Fili and Kili were dying. That....” He still hadn't said Thorin's name out loud since that day, and could not find the strength in him to say it now. 

“What? What else did he say?” Thorin's deep voice rumbled over Bilbo like thunder from the doorway.  
Bilbo looked up in shock. Troubled hazel eyes met desperate blue ones, as the dwarf king entered the room. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo whispered softly as tears fogged his vision.  
Thorin fidgeted from one foot to the other uneasily. “I understand if you don't want to see me, I just had to know... had to see you whole and well for myself.”

Bilbo frowned. “Why would I not want to see you?”  
Thorin looked a little embarrassed. “When last we spoke, I threatened to end your life. I wronged you. Horribly.”  
“And I forgave you, fool dwarf.”  
“But, then why did you leave? Why did you go without saying good bye?”  
“I thought you were... Dain said... that you... didn't make it.”  
“And what about us, ya bastard?” Bofur's voice floated in behind the king. He shuffled in around Thorin and all but hauled Bilbo out of the bed with a fierce hug.

Bilbo chuckled, flinching a little at the dwarf's strong embrace. “I was told I wasn't wanted.”  
“By who?” Bofur asked as he finally released a slightly ruffled Bilbo. 

“Dain of course,” Thorin answered, “what else did he tell you, Bilbo?”  
“He said the true company of the late king had ordered him to keep me from... saying good bye.”  
Thorin put a hand over his face, overcome with rage. “Balin,” he said in a terrifyingly level voice, “come with me.” 

Balin did not have time to answer as Thorin stormed from the room. 

“Well, I reckon Dain is in for a fair bit of trouble,” Bofur pointed out. “Are ya hungry Bilbo?”

Bilbo nodded at his friend, but could not bring himself to focus on the enthusiastic dwarf's rambling.  
Thorin was alive. After believing him dead for so long, he was in a bit of shock at the realization. He had to convince himself of the fact after so much turmoil. He found himself lost in his own mind as Bofur chattered away, having sent Oin to fetch Bilbo a meal. 

Thorin was alive. He was alive. All the regrets Bilbo had carried of things unsaid, the embarrassment of knowing the other dwarves had been laughing at him. He still could not be sure if they were aware of his feelings towards their king. Perhaps that was something to worry about later, but for now, he could revel in the relief. 

Thorin and his nephews lived. Bilbo found himself giggling at the realization. Bofur looked at him with concern, only making Bilbo laugh harder. Soon he was doubled over, holding his stomach and laughing so hard his eyes watered. 

“You alright there, Bilbo?” Bofur asked with a grin.

Bilbo had to take a few desperate breaths before he could answer. “Yes Bofur, I think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the kudos and comments! I was not sure how much I liked this story. It’s kind of an experiment, but your enthusiasm inspires me to stick with it!

“You cannot wage war on the Iron Hills, Thorin. Be sensible!” Balin was having difficulty convincing the enraged dwarf king.  
“Oh yes I can,” came the sharp reply, “What Dain did was an act of war! I will have his head!”  
“Calm down, laddie. I know you are angry-”  
“Angry? I am ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS!” Thorin roared before he resumed pacing before the hearth.  
“Thorin, please, at least wait for a response from the Iron Hills. Maybe there is some explanation,” Balin tried again. 

Thorin shot him an incredulous look, stopping to rest an arm on the mantle. He was unable to stand still with so much rage coursing through him like a war drum in his ears. “Dwalin!” he bellowed.

Dwalin ducked his head in to the doorway, where he had been standing guard. “What?” Dwalin spat back at him.  
Thorin stomped across the room, eyes dangerously full of fury. “Grab your ax. I think I'm in need of a good sparring.”

Dwalin smirked in anticipation. He loved a good sparring, especially if Thorin was in a foul mood. He was much more fun that way. 

Dwalin grabbed his axes and followed Thorin as he stormed through the mountain, his hair and royal robes billowing behind him dramatically. They didn't speak as they made their way through corridors and down a half a dozen flights of stairs to the training room. Upon entering, Thorin immediately stomped over to a bench near the wall, shedding his fur lined robe and heavy tunic. 

Dwalin raised his eyebrows when Thorin angrily hefted his light armor off next and let it clang loudly onto the floor. Thorin never sparred without at least a little protection, but it looked like this time, he would have none. He nearly tore his undershirt off and cast it aside. Then, he stomped into the middle of the room, sword drawn, and awaited Dwalin. 

Dwalin regarded the king, chest bare and heaving in his wrath. He sighed heavily before he finally joined Thorin, drawing his ax and facing him with a sharp grin. He did not have to wait long for Thorin to leap into action. Pent up rage poured from the king, concentrated into every wild and powerful blow of his sword. 

Dwalin was a fair match for the king. He had never had trouble keeping up and blocking every attack Thorin threw at him. Today, however, the king was quickly gaining ground and coming dangerously close to breaking through Dwalin's defenses. “Thorin!” he roared at him. “Thorin! I am not Dain!”

Thorin slowed and finally withdrew, holding his sword loosely at his side, sweat pouring down his face and back, his fury ebbing with each panting breath. 

“I'm sorry my friend.” Thorin responded between gasps, wiping his brow with his free hand. 

“I understand, Thorin. I can't imagine how I would feel if somebody had done Ori like that.”

Thorin's eyes widened. “What is that supposed to mean?”  
“Oh come on, man. You don't really believe everyone is that fuckin clueless, do you?”  
“I don't know what you're talking about.”  
“Thorin,” Dwalin's voice lowered, “we all know how you feel about Bilbo.”

Thorin looked up, fuming again. He lifted his sword and Dwalin grinned to himself. So he had struck a nerve. 

Good. 

He had worked Thorin over this way many times before. Catching him off-guard in the heat of a spar was a sure way to help the king work out his issues. Thorin would never admit it, but this was the reason he always sought out Dwalin to spar with him when he was troubled. It never failed to lighten his burdens.

“No use denying it Thorin,” Dwalin shot out as he easily deflected a blow from Thorin's unforgiving sword, “you love him, lad.”  
Thorin grit his teeth.  
“What I can't figure out,” Dwalin continued between the clang of their weapons clashing, “is why you're so damn pissed off about it!”

Thorin stopped again, placing his hands on his knees and bowing his head. “Because,” Thorin responded between staggering breaths, “I fear it.”

Dwalin sighed. “Of course you do. I did too. Ori is young and whole, and I didn't think I had any business being with him. Still don't from time to time. But that is his choice. I have no right to tell him that he doesn't know what's best for him.” 

Thorin stood, bringing a hand up to massage at his temples in frustration. He let out a loud sigh as his emotions simmered beneath the surface of his skin. He hated feeling uncertain, the insecurity mixing poorly with the still hot anger in his gut. “It doesn't matter. I don't even know how Bilbo feels. Until just recently, he thought me dead.” 

“A fair point, but, maybe now is a good time to uh, show him how lively ya are!” Dwalin nudged Thorin with his elbow suggestively. 

“Dwalin, please, get ahold of yourself.” Thorin grinned despite himself, shaking his head at the absurdity of his friend. 

The warrior chuckled at his own ridiculous joke. “Well, the point is, maybe instead of taking your wrath out on your cousin, you should.... focus your energies elsewhere, eh?” Dwalin waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Thorin.

Thorin nodded, understanding the intent behind the comment, then rolled his eyes. “I don't know why I listen to you. You are incorrigible.”

With that, Thorin gathered his clothing and left in a huff, Dwalin not far behind. Of course, Dwalin would not be deterred.  
“You know, hobbits may be soft, but they seem to be quite hardy creatures. I'm sure Bilbo wouldn't mind a little rough handling.”  
Thorin slapped his hand to his forehead. Mahal help him, he was going to sock Dwalin square in the nose if this continued. 

And continue it did. Dwalin needled and teased Thorin unmercifully all the way back to the king's study. By the time they reached Thorin's study, the king was sure he would have to have Dwalin exiled just to escape his incessant ribbing. Balin looked up from the desk as his brother and king traipsed through the door. 

“And further more,” Dwalin was saying, “I bet it's been a fair while since anybody graced your royal bed, hasn't it Thorin? Tell me, just how long has it been since somebody warmed your sheets?”

Balin glanced up without raising his head and quirked a knowing eyebrow at Thorin. Thorin blushed and turned away from his friends, choosing not to reply. 

Dwalin moved around to look the king in the eye again. “How long, Thorin?” he asked in a more serious tone. 

“Well now, brother! Let's leave the king to himself for a moment. No doubt he will be wanting to gather his thoughts before going to visit Bilbo?” he looked pointedly at Thorin. “As your advisor, I insist you go spend some time with him. He will benefit from seeing you whole for more than a moment, hmm?”  
With that, Balin drug his unruly brother out into the hall and down the corridor. 

Thorin sighed heavily. Yes. He should visit Bilbo. His mind made up, he headed for his rooms to pull on a fresh tunic and comb his hair into some semblance of order. He mustered his courage and strode deliberately out of the room, beginning the long descent down to the healing chambers. 

When he arrived, he could not help stopping in the doorway to take in the sight before him. Bilbo was sitting upright against his pillows, his face red with laughter as Kili bounced animatedly around the bed. No doubt Kili was recounting a much exaggerated adventure. Fili sat next to Bilbo, one arm flung casually around him, laughing and shaking his head at his ridiculous little brother. Thorin felt his heart swell at the sound of Bilbo's laugh, a sound he had been sure he would never hear again. 

When it seemed Kili was finished recounting his story, Thorin cleared his throat. Bilbo looked up and as his eyes met Thorin's, he beamed beautifully, warm and bold as sun rays against the stone. Thorin couldn't help but smile back, feeling the tension fall from him like shedding a layer of armor. It quieted the remaining anger in his head and brought forth a warm bubbling Thorin had learned to associate with the hobbit. Fili and Kili watched this exchange, grinning cheekily as they shared a knowing look. 

“Well, I suppose we'll just leave you to it then,” Fili said as he bustled Kili out of the room. 

Bilbo looked away and cleared his throat awkwardly, remembering what Dain had said about everybody knowing how he felt about the king. He wondered again if Thorin knew. 

Thorin hesitantly made his way over to Bilbo's bedside.. “So, Master Baggins, I see you are recovering.”

“And I see you are still breathing,” Bilbo replied, “and please Thorin, I thought we were past such formalities as titles.”

Thorin smiled again. “Yes, Bilbo, I am still breathing. I must apologize on behalf of my cousin. He will pay dearly for the pain he has caused you.”

Bilbo blanched at the mention of Dain, but nodded. “What are you going to do with him?”  
Thorin sighed. “Well, since Balin insists I cannot demand his head on a plate, I am not yet certain.”

Bilbo could feel the disappointment in the statement. He almost felt bad for Dain. 

Almost. 

With the two of them being alone together, Thorin started to lose his nerve. His stomach clenched and his palms began sweating as he stood awkwardly between the bed and the door. “Well, I guess I'll let you rest,” he attempted a hasty retreat, but was stopped mid stride by a small voice behind him.

“Thorin wait.” Thorin turned around to face Bilbo's pleading eyes. “Stay with me a while?”

Thorin couldn't help the warmth that engulfed him. “Of course,” he made his way back over to Bilbo's bed. Bilbo smiled up at him and patted the blanket by his side, inviting him to sit. Thorin's heart stuttered a bit when his arm brushed Bilbo's as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Now tell me, how goes the restoration of your magnificent kingdom?”

And so, Thorin went in to great detail of the goings on of Erebor. Bilbo was a very attentive audience. He listened as Thorin spoke of the inner workings of the rising kingdom. The tenuous peace with the men, formerly of Laketown, now of Dale, and Bard's transformation into a king. Thorin assured Bilbo that Erebor had helped at every turn in the rebuilding of the fallen city. The two kingdoms would soon flourish under the care of their strong and united leaders. 

Bilbo enthusiastically absorbed every detail Thorin could give him. Thorin was surprised at how easily he shared his plans and burdens with the hobbit. He could tell Bilbo honestly cared and hung on his every word. 

Far too soon, Bilbo felt his muscles stiffening. His body was no longer used to sitting upright for so long. Thorin noticed him beginning to squirm in his discomfort.

“Bilbo, are you injured?”  
Bilbo grimaced. “No, just sore. It seems attempting death by fading has not agreed with me.”

Thorin flinched as the careless words tumbled from the hobbit's mouth. He shook his head against the rekindled fury that tried to ignite within him. He took a steadying breath, then gestured to the steaming water in the middle of the room.  
“You know, that pool over there is a natural hot spring. It is said to have healing properties, and the heat is good for tense muscles.”

Bilbo swallowed audibly. What exactly was Thorin suggesting? Did he mean Bilbo should take a dip at some point, or was he offering to get in with him right now? Thorin seemed to sense Bilbo's distress. 

“Are you not fond of water?”  
“Not really,” Bilbo admitted, “Hobbits are not good swimmers. But I would like to try it, just to get a little relief.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “Would you like me to get in with you?” Thorin's voice was hesitant, so unlike the bold dwarf king Bilbo knew.  
“If you don't mind, I think I would like that very much.” Although Bilbo sounded more sure of himself than Thorin at the moment, he felt ripples of anxiety wash over him, causing him to pick at the edge of his fur blanket. 

They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, before Bilbo pushed the covers back. “A dip in some hot water would do me good,” he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. 

Thorin tried to control his breathing as Bilbo slid from the bed and lifted his shirt up and over his head, dropping it on the floor at his feet. He looked up at Thorin, who slowly stood and tried his best to look anywhere but at the hobbit before him. 

Bilbo turned and made his way over to the steaming pool, Thorin close behind him. Keeping his back to the dwarf, he took a deep breath. This was silly. He had bathed with all of the dwarves at some point, what with being on the road for so long together. But this was different. Never had the two of them been bare and alone. He felt butterflies in his stomach just thinking of it. 

No sense in standing at the edge of the pool forever. Bilbo put on a determined face and finished undressing, stepping out of his trousers. He walked slowly down stone steps into hot, soothing water. Once he came off the last step, he sank in down to his neck and let out a contented sigh. The water really did feel wonderful. He smiled and turned to face Thorin, who was still standing fully clothed at the waters edge. 

Bilbo looked at Thorin questioningly, and watched as a light blush dusted the dwarf kings neck and traveled up his cheeks and ears. “You don't have to get in if you don't want to, you know.”

Thorin hesitated for a moment, then turned away, pulling his tunic over his head. If Bilbo didn't know any better, he'd say the king was nervous. That, of course, was absurd. Thorin was a brave and well traveled warrior. Bilbo decided to turn away in any case, to give the dwarf some privacy. He stood in anticipation, listening to the rustle and drop of fabric and metallic cling of clasps and buttons and snaps as Thorin disrobed.

The water shifted up around Bilbo, lifting his hair up around his neck as Thorin slid into the water behind him. Bilbo turned around just as Thorin ducked below the surface, the water flowing over his head and clearing him from view. Bilbo fought down a moment of panic, reminding himself that Thorin was a few inches taller than him, and easily a far better swimmer. It was only a moment before Thorin broke through the waters glassy surface, pushing his hair out of his eyes with a quick swipe of a wet hand. Bilbo watched as the water cascaded down the mane of raven hair kissed with silver, and over a solid chest and shoulders. 

Bilbo swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. Perhaps this was not the best idea. The last thing he wanted was to make his friend uncomfortable with his wandering gaze. When he finally thought it safe to open his eyes again, he saw Thorin was settling himself on a ledge at the edge of the pool, the water dancing around his chest. He glanced down at the water next to him and back up at Bilbo, an obvious invitation to join him. 

Bilbo eased his way through the water to Thorin's side, feeling for the ledge the dwarf was perched on. He turned and sat himself down, leaving his right leg to dangle, and pulled his left leg a bit underneath him, turning towards his friend. Thorin mirrored Bilbo's position so the two of them were facing each other. 

Now Bilbo floundered a bit. He wasn't sure what would come next. The humid air suddenly felt thick with anticipation. Bilbo's pulse quickened a bit as he looked up at Thorin, watching the reflective green toned light dance across his face. He couldn't be sure, but he swore he saw Thorin lean towards him, just a little. Bilbo looked into the dwarf's clear blue eyes and saw only uncertainty. 

The two stared at each other for just a moment, or maybe it was hours. Bilbo couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he felt as if he would explode at any moment from anticipation. Sparks of excitement prickled across his heated skin. He finally broke from the king's gaze to watch a stray water droplet run along the side of a sharp nose and over slightly parted lips. 

Bilbo's hand raised without him making the conscious decision to move it. He followed the droplets path with the pad of his thumb, slowing as it ghosted over Thorin's top lip. He held it there when he felt uneven breath flutter over his hand. He looked up into Thorin's eyes as his thumb traced gently over the slightly cracked skin of his lips. He saw so much in those deep pools of sapphire. There was definitely anticipation. Anticipation and excitement, but still so much apprehension. 

Slowly, and very deliberately, Bilbo rose to his knees. He saw Thorin flinch just a little, but noticed the king's eyes widen with something other than fear. He leaned in until he could feel his breath mingle with Thorin's own, giving the dwarf plenty of time to back away if he wanted. His heart was beating a staccato rhythm against his ribcage, threatening to burst out. It was thrumming so hard he could feel it in his hands, which he was sure would be sweating if they weren't already wet. He held his breath as he waited anxiously for Thorin's reaction.

Thorin did not back down. He closed the distance between them, lightly brushing his lips over Bilbo's in a chaste kiss. He looked up at Bilbo hesitantly. Bilbo gave him a quick grin and pressed their mouths together again, throwing his arms around Thorin's neck. 

They moved their lips together for a few moments before Bilbo's parted and he nibbled Thorin's bottom lip just a little. Thorin groaned appreciatively, allowing Bilbo's tongue to find his.

Bilbo was fit to burst, fully content to just explore Thorin's mouth for hours, if he would be allowed. Thorin had finally begun to relax. Tension seemed to leave his shoulders as they embraced. He pulled Bilbo close, running his calloused hands over the hobbit's smooth back as he kissed him with wild abandon.

Just then, the door flew open and Bofur's voice tumbled over them like an avalanche on the mountainside. “Bilbo! Bilbo I brought you-” Bofur stopped short at the sight of the king and the hobbit, visible only from the chest up, locked in an embrace, both red in the face and panting slightly. The two jumped apart at Bofur's amused gaze. 

“Scones and tea,” Bofur finished with a smirk. “Well now, I see you've made yerself right at home! I'll just leave this here,” he said as he set the tray on the table next the hearth. He gave a merry wave and ducked out the door. 

Bilbo and Thorin shared a slightly embarrassed glance, both grinning ridiculously. 

“Well, no sense in letting the tea go cold,” Bilbo said as he rose from the water, giving an aroused and slightly amused dwarf king a perfect view of his backside. Bilbo didn't seem to notice as he wrapped himself in a thick blanket and poured himself a cup of tea. “Care for a scone?”

Thorin sighed. “Yes, I think tea and scones would be agreeable,” he got out of the water to join Bilbo, pulling his trousers on over wet skin, leaving the laces untied. He walked over to the fireplace and sat himself in the chair next to Bilbo's.

Bilbo asked Thorin to fill him in on what his friends had been up to since reclaiming the mountain. They passed the time in light conversation, skin drying by the hearth, and sipped on soothing tea.  
Long after the flame had died down to glowing embers, Thorin decided it was time to take his leave. The two rose from their chairs, Bilbo pulling his blanket tighter about is frame as they made their way to the door. Thorin remembered with a sudden jolt to his groin that Bilbo was still completely bare beneath those furs. 

Mahal save him.

Thorin stopped by the door, turning to face the hobbit. He tried very hard to keep his gaze above Bilbo's shoulders as he smiled warmly up at him.  
“Thank you, for coming to see me,” Bilbo said softly.  
“It was my pleasure.” Thorin shifted anxiously, setting his gaze on his hand resting on the door frame. 

“Would you...” Thorin began, voice a bit shaky and dry with nerves, “would you mind joining me in my chambers tomorrow evening? Privately? There is something I would like to discuss with you.”  
Bilbo's smile grew. “Of course.”

The two shifted a bit nervously before Bilbo muscled up the courage to raise onto his toes, giving Thorin a soft peck on the cheek. He turned around and walked back into the room before Thorin could blink. Thorin smiled and touched his cheek where he could still feel the ghost of Bilbo's soft lips. 

As Thorin walked back to his room, he replayed the last few hours in his head. He couldn't help the contented grin that stole over his features as he thought of the possibilities of the upcoming evening. So lost was he in his daydreaming that he ran right into Bifur, sending the other dwarf sprawling to the ground. 

Bifur scowled up at Thorin, sputtering angrily in Khuzdul.  
“I'm sorry Bifur,” Thorin offered.  
Bifur took in Thorin's mussed hair, the sparkle in his eyes and the slight bulge in his pants. He threw out another string of Khuzdul, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“No, I am not fantasizing, thank you very much,” Thorin responded defensively.  
Bifur raised his hands, shrugging his shoulders, and backed up a bit. Thorin stormed off down the hall, muttering irritatedly under his breath.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meddlesome nephews and confessions by the fire

The next morning, Oin came in to check on Bilbo shortly before breakfast. He was satisfied with the hobbit's improvement, and encouraged him to take his breakfast with the dwarves in the dining hall. Bilbo was a bit hesitant, given his current weakened state, but Oin insisted, promising to help him navigate the vast halls. 

It was slow going, as Bilbo had predicted, but Oin proved to be quite patient. He stopped when Bilbo needed a breather, and helped support some of his weight as they made their way slowly through the mountain. Eventually, they made it up to one of the dining halls closest to the royal chambers, where the rest of the company awaited him.

Bilbo hobbled through the door, his weight resting almost entirely on the healer under his arm, and was immediately met with an uproar of cheers. He was seized by eager hands, all hugs and pats and hair ruffling. Then Fili and Kili grabbed him under the arms and hauled him roughly to the table, sitting him between the pair of them. Tauriel sat at Kili's other side, smiling at her dwarf adoringly.

Bilbo couldn't wait to hear that story. He looked at Kili's beaming face and decided now was as good a time as any to hear it. 

“So Kili, how did you convince your uncle to allow an elf to reside in the mountain?” Bilbo asked innocently as a plate heaped with food was thrown before him. 

Tauriel chuckled softly under her breath as Kili rolled his eyes and gave Bilbo an exasperated look.  
“It was terrible. He threw me out of Erebor for a solid month.”  
Bilbo's jaw dropped. “No! Please tell me he didn't.”  
Kili nodded somberly. “Oh he did. Tauriel and I set up camp at Ravenhill until Fili could talk some sense into him.”  
“Talked sense? Into Thorin? I cannot fathom how Fili managed it.” 

Kili gave Bilbo a knowing smirk. “You.”  
Bilbo frowned in confusion at the young dwarf beside him. “Pardon me?”  
“Fili convinced him by using you.”  
“Using me how? I wasn't even here. Kili, you aren't making any sense.”

Kili's only response was to chuckle and shoot him a devious look. Bilbo's frown deepened as he stared at the cackling dwarf. Fili chose that moment to pipe up and explain, for which Bilbo was grateful. 

“I told uncle he had no right to banish Kili. You do not treat family so callously, not to mention, Kili is of Durin's blood, a royal prince of Erebor and deserves more respect. I also threatened to go with Kili and Tauriel to find a home elsewhere, leaving him without an heir. And further more, I told Thorin he of all beings should know, you cannot choose who you love. Even if they are not of your race.” Fili glanced sidelong at Bilbo.

So they did know. Bilbo quickly turned away from Fili's smug face and immediately began trying to coax Ori, who was sitting across from him, into conversation. 

“Ori, where are Balin and Dwalin?” Bilbo asked the scribe, careful not to mention his notice of Thorin's absence as well.  
“Oh, they are helping Thorin with his morning duties,” Gloin piped up from Ori's right, “Apparently, he expressed the need to have his evening undisturbed, and as such skipped breakfast to get a head start on the day,” Gloin finished with a raised eyebrow and a suggestive look. 

Drat. Seems it didn't matter how Bilbo tried, his friends were not going to let up on the subject of the king. He felt heat rise up his neck and the tips of his ears as the table of rowdy dwarves grew silent and affixed their attention on him.

“Thorin is usually quite happy to share his free time with all of us, yet he made it clear he would not be joining us for dinner this evening,” Bofur added, causing Bilbo to blush even more fiercely as he remembered what the dwarf had so recently walked in on. 

“And he has requested food for two be delivered to his chambers tonight,” Bombur added unhelpfully from Ori's other side. Bilbo hid his ruby red face in his hands and wished more than anything that the floor would swallow him up.

“Now why would my uncle hole himself up in his chambers, with enough food to feed two?” Fili asked the sausage on his fork in mock concern.

“I might have an idea,” Bilbo's voice was weak and muffled from behind his hands. His friends roared with laughter around him, taking obvious joy in his discomfort. 

Thankfully, the laughter died down as the dwarves slowly went back to their own discussions, leaving Bilbo to attempt control over his fiercely blushing face. 

“It's alright Bilbo,” Kili said slapping the hobbit on the shoulder, “we've known for a while now.”

“How long?” Bilbo asked, covering his face again as a fresh blush overtook him.  
“Rivendell?” Kili asked his brother over Bilbo's head.  
“It took you until Rivendell? Oh, Kili, it was obvious from the get go,” the blonde answered him.

Bilbo groaned. “And what about him?”  
“You mean did he know? Of course not. We love our uncle, but he can be quite oblivious,” Kili answered matter-of-factly.

Well, there was no chance Thorin was oblivious now. Bilbo thought about the previous night. He thought of the uncertainty that seemed to cloud Thorin's eyes when they were close. He frowned as he remembered the king's hesitancy. Was Thorin unsure of Bilbo's feelings? Of his own? Perhaps he had not had enough time to consider if he wanted Bilbo's advances. That couldn't be, Bilbo knew he had not imagined Thorin's eager participation. Or had he? 

Suddenly, Bilbo found himself quite anxious about the evening to come. Was Thorin going to use tonight in order to let him down easy? His stomach dropped and there was an unpleasant tingling in his feet and hands. 

Bilbo's anxiety must have shown on his face, because suddenly there were two concerned looking faces leaning in to his periphery on either side. 

“Is he sick?” Kili asked his brother.  
“I don't know, he does look a bit pale,” Fili answered.  
“As red as he's been the last 15 minutes, that's quite impressive,” Kili added.  
“Or concerning,” Fili countered, “Bilbo?” Fili's voice took on a concerned tone. 

Bilbo shook his head and adopted a most unconvincing smile. “I'm fine, I'm fine, just.... tired,” Bilbo said to the princes, waving a hand dismissively. As if responding to a direct summons, Oin appeared behind Bilbo. 

“Alright laddie, back to bed with you,” the healer demanded.  
Bilbo sighed. “I would really rather not sit alone in the infirmary all day again.”  
Oin frowned. “I suppose we could take turns sitting with you,” the old healer suggested.  
“Nonsense, I don't need to be babysat. Please, just help me find a place to rest that is a little closer to activity.”  
“Oh good, now we can torment him a bit longer, Fili!” Kili proclaimed with enthusiasm.

Bilbo slapped his palm to his forehead. “On second thought, maybe I would like to spend the day alone.”  
“Oh don't be a spoil sport, Bilbo! It's all in good fun,” the blond prince tried to assure him.  
“Yes. Fun,” the hobbit responded dryly.

* * * * *

Bilbo spent the better part of his morning sitting by the fire in the dining hall. His friends trickled in a few at a time throughout the day to check on him and keep him company. By lunch time, he was feeling nearly as good as new, his spirits lifted by his ever present companions. A lingering anxiety still hovered over him, though he could not bring himself to dwell on it too much. He was far too grateful for the lives of Thorin and his nephews, and the continued friendship of the dwarves he had come to love. But when the evening approached, he found it harder to keep his nerves at bay. 

The day had flown by all too quickly, and before he knew it, he was being escorted by two infuriating princes to the royal chambers. 

“Why did it have to be you two?” Bilbo grumbled in exasperation.  
“Well because we insisted of course,” Kili answered him cheerfully.  
“Oh Bilbo, why do you look like we're marching you to your death?” Fili asked innocently.  
“His pulse is rather quick Fili, do you suppose he's afraid of uncle?” Kili questioned his brother.  
“I am not afraid of Thorin,” Bilbo declared with a clenched jaw.  
“Oh, that is not how it appears,” Fili shot back.  
“Perhaps he is nervous for another reason?” Kili questioned teasingly.  
“I am not nervous!” Bilbo insisted, though his thrumming pulse and rapid shallow breaths suggested otherwise. 

Thankfully, the brothers let it drop, and silently dragged Bilbo towards a large oak door. Bilbo gulped audibly and fidgeted uncomfortably with his sleeves as Fili and Kili deposited him in front of the door. 

“Well, here we are!” Kili cheerfully exclaimed. They wished Bilbo luck before Fili knocked at the door, and the two darted away down the corridor, leaving Bilbo to his fate.

The door opened a crack as Bilbo's stomach flip flopped anxiously. The warm orange glow of a lit fire filled the dark and chilly hall as Thorin opened the door further, wordlessly ushering Bilbo in. 

The hobbit glanced up at the dwarf as he stepped timidly inside. Thorin's face was carefully blank as he closed the door behind him. The latched clicked in finality, and Bilbo took a steadying breath. There was no turning back, and he tried to quell the uncertainty in his chest, even as it clenched around his heart. He followed Thorin across the large sitting room to sit on opposite ends of the sofa before the hearth.

The two looked at each other nervously, then quickly averted their gaze with awkward smiles. Finally, Bilbo thought it was high time to break the tension and get this over with.

“Nice night,” he started.  
“Yes it is,” the king answered, a bit strained. “Bilbo, there is something I-”  
“Wait, wait, before you say anything, I must apologize for last night.”

Thorin's brow furrowed as he regarded the hobbit. “Oh?”  
“Yes, I overstepped a rather serious boundary, even though I could tell you were uncertain, and possibly not even interested.”  
“Oh?” Thorin asked again.  
“I very much appreciate you going out of your way to have this conversation in private, and I assure you, it will never happen again.”  
“Oh.” 

Thorin waited a moment to be sure Bilbo was finished before he began again. “Bilbo, the only reason I would not want to repeat last night, is if you did not want to. Though it seemed rather obvious to me that we were both quite enjoying ourselves.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin blankly for a moment as his words sunk in. He felt the surge of something more desirable than anxiety flow over him in a wave. “So, that is something that you- you might... that we could.... do again?” He managed to stutter out. 

Thorin's warm smile lit the room more so than the fire before them. “Yes, I believe I would be rather agreeable to that.”

Bilbo returned the dwarf's grin and slowly turned his body to face the other. Thorin slid himself closer and put an arm around him. Bilbo's heart hammered in his chest as he leaned in and was met halfway, Thorin's lips slightly parted as their mouths connected soundly between them. 

Bilbo felt he might explode at the overwhelming sensations assaulting him as Thorin's arms wrapped around his waist, caressing his back and shoulders. He brought his hands up and slid them up the back of Thorin's neck, wrapping them in the dwarf's soft thick hair.

Bilbo pulled back and looked up into Thorin's hooded eyes. “I-” Bilbo was interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Thorin jumped up and strode across the room to answer it. Bombur stood in the hall, holding a large tray laden with food before him. Thorin moved aside to let the large dwarf enter, who immediately noticed the heated quality of the room. He placed the tray on a table and retreated as swiftly as his bulk would allow. 

“Do you mind if we eat by the fire?” Thorin asked Bilbo softly.  
“Oh no, I don't mind at all.”

The two settled with their food before the hearth, each with a large glass of wine in hand. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before Bilbo remembered there was supposed to be a reason for this meeting.

“So, was there truly something you wanted to discuss, or was this just an excuse to get me alone?”  
Thorin shot him a playful look, flashing his teeth in a mischievous grin and raising an eyebrow. “Getting you alone was definitely a perk, but yes. There is something I wished to discuss with you.” 

Thorin set his plate aside and turned to face Bilbo more directly. Bilbo could not ever remember the king looking quite so hesitant. He watched as Thorin stared at the hands in his lap, chewing nervously on his lip. Bilbo lowered his head, forcing the dwarf to meet his eye.

“Thorin, it's just me here. What are you so anxious about?”  
Thorin took a deep breath, blowing it out between pursed lips.  
“I do not wish to make a fool of myself,” he answered bluntly.  
“Honestly, it's a little bit late for that, don't you think? I have seen you at your most foolish already.”  
Thorin chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He dropped his gaze again, looking at the floor and cleared his throat. “Bilbo, are you planning to return to the Shire?”  
“Oh. Oh I- I guess I hadn't thought of....” Bilbo looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose that would depend.”  
“On?”  
“What exactly are you asking me?” Bilbo gave Thorin a scrutinizing look. 

Thorin sighed. “I had intended- before....everything, to ask you..... to tell you....” Thorin floundered for a moment.  
“Thorin?” Bilbo pressed impatiently.  
“You have a place here. A home. If you want it. I had planned on inviting you to stay, if you'd like, before everything with the Arkenstone. But now..... I would also, if you would allow....”  
“Sweet Yavanna Thorin, what is it?”

Thorin closed his eyes and grumbled to himself a bit. “I would like to court you, if you would allow it,” he blurted in one breath. He opened his eyes and leveled Bilbo with his sapphire gaze, so intense and vulnerable it made Bilbo's heart leap into his throat. “I have come to care for you. Quite a lot more than I know what to do with. I'm sorry I am not very good at this. It's hard for me to speak so openly.”

Bilbo's face softened at the king's admission. He ached for the dwarf, as his uncertainty was all too familiar. “Thorin, if you were afraid I would reject you, you have nothing to worry about. I couldn't turn you down if I tried.” 

Thorin's shoulders relaxed and the tension in his face released. He looked up at Bilbo through his lashes, face open and devoid of the brooding mask he always had in place. Bilbo had never seen Thorin so.... himself. He had never been so drawn to the dwarf than in this moment, when King Thorin had been put aside and all that was left was Thorin the dwarf. 

“Are there things I need to be aware of, if we are to be courting? Any dwarvish customs I should know about?” Bilbo asked quietly.

“Not many. Mostly, courting is a very personalized phase for a couple. Dwarves are usually very openly affectionate when courting, and there are often gifts given to your intended. If it is decided the couple are not compatible, the gifts are returned as a sign the courtship is ended. Otherwise, if the courtship goes well, an engagement bead is crafted and gifted to the intended. If the proposal is accepted, the bead is woven into a braid of betrothal.”

“That seems simple enough,” Bilbo noted, “and, just how open are dwarves with their affection?”  
“Very.” With that, Thorin grabbed Bilbo's face between his hands and pulled him in for another breath stealing kiss. Bilbo slid closer and placed his hands on Thorin's chest, humming in appreciation as the kiss was deepened. He ran his hands down and slid them under Thorin's thick tunic, fingertips meeting the heated hard planes of Thorin's abdomen. He felt Thorin's chest vibrate as he groaned at the contact. 

Thorin slid shaking hands down and around the hobbit's waist. Bilbo moved to straddle the dwarf, pressing their bodies together. Thorin gasped as their hips connected, creating a hot friction. 

The chamber door banged open, shocking the two like a bucket of ice water. 

“I'm so sorry Thorin,” Balin blurted out, “but we've received word from the Iron Hills.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowing down here. I have far too many thoughts swirling in my head. Ideas keep popping up, but then I think no! That would be perfect in another fic! And so this chapter has changed entirely about four different times. But here it is now. The way I want it. 
> 
> I think.

Thorin sat in a hard wooden chair, his face in his hands and elbows resting precariously on the edge of his desk. He read and re-read the message from the dwarves of the Iron Hills. Apparently, Dain had not returned to his kingdom after the battle. As such, his son had responded to Thorin's urgent message. Dain's son assured Thorin that he was not aware of his father's location, or of his grudge against the hobbit.

There was an additional message from the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, from Thorin's sister Dis. She had written to notify Thorin that several weeks previous, she had received a message from Dain himself, imploring her to join him on a mission to overthrow Thorin and take control of Erebor. He insisted that Thorin was still under the hold of dragon sickness, determined it was the only explanation for the king allowing his nephew to court an elf, and for Thorin himself to have taken up with a halfling. 

Dis, however, was absolutely appalled at Dain's assumption that she would ever threaten her brother's rule. But, she had cautioned in her letter, there were some who stood with Dain. She insisted that Thorin take precautions to keep Bilbo safe. Which told them Dain was aware that Bilbo had returned to the mountain. His sister also let him know, she would be more than happy to hear his side of things when she arrived in two months time. Which meant she was already on her way. 

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at Balin, who was leaning against the mantle, and Gandalf, who sat in a chair beside the dwarf, leaning heavily on his staff.

“Dain knows Bilbo is here,” Thorin brought light to his fears.  
“It would seem we have a spy in our midst,” Balin mused.  
“A spy?” Thorin countered, standing up and pointing an angry finger towards the heart of the mountain, “Dain left hundreds of his soldiers to assist with restoration. How could we possibly single out who is responsible?”  
Gandalf sighed exasperatedly. “It is more likely his dwarves have simply shared an observation. Who is to say that there had been any malicious intent from someone here? Although, if Dain is serious about taking over your rule, he will have a few dwarves passing him information.”  
The room grew quiet again at the thought of the impossible task before them. How could they find a specific few faceless dwarves amidst a throng of hundreds of strangers?

All eyes snapped up when Dwalin came thundering into the room, Nori in tow behind him. The thief bowed to his king, demeanor still managing to hold an air of rebellion in the gesture.

Thorin regarded the star haired dwarf. “Nori my friend, I have a job for you.”

 

* * * * *

Thorin pulled the door to the royal chambers open, rubbing his forehead roughly with one hand. He was developing quite a headache after such a trying meeting. He looked over and was surprised to see Bilbo, still sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, a book laid across his lap and a goblet of wine in his hand. He watched as the firelight played with Bilbo's hair, bringing out hues of bronze and gold as it flickered over him. Bilbo tapped a foot lightly, as though keeping time to his own private tune while he read. Thorin smiled to himself as he eased over to the sofa, slowly sitting down next to his hobbit. 

Bilbo looked up and smiled at him, all warm and fuzzy with drink. Thorin couldn't help the swell of adoration that overwhelmed him at the sight. He leaned in, kissing Bilbo softly on the temple. Bilbo set his book and his glass on the table next to him, then turned back to Thorin, nearly throwing himself in to the dwarf's lap to kiss him properly. 

Thorin thought he may never get used to it, kissing Bilbo. After spending so many months on the road, imagining what it would be like to hold the hobbit close to him, reality was so much better. There was a thrumming in his chest and a buzz in his head and a heat the slowly began to take hold over him.  
What started as a simple kiss was rapidly building in urgency. Thorin suddenly jumped as he felt a hand reach for his laces. He pulled away from Bilbo and grabbed the hobbit's hands, bringing them up to brush gently against his lips, before placing them back in Bilbo's lap. 

“I think we should get some sleep. It is very late,” Thorin said softly. Bilbo looked at him, clearly a little caught of guard, but shrugged his shoulders lightly. “Yes alright,” he nodded, then stretched, stifling a yawn. He allowed Thorin to take him to a bedchamber off the main room, grateful for the firm and steady hand at his back that lead him through the dark room and to a large bed. He flopped down onto the mattress, so exhausted he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Thorin mulled over the nights events and he made his way back to his own bedroom. He couldn't help but obsess over what Dain's plans were, considering he was obviously looking for support. How could his cousin betray him like this? Threatening his rule and ultimately his life. And most probably Bilbo's. His stomach twisted, and he clenched his jaw as an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over him, knowing that Dain's distaste for the hobbit was likely kindled by his own actions. Perhaps this was not in anyone's best interest, courting Bilbo given the state of things. Of course he had to go and throw himself out there, reason and logic be damned. Dwarves were not known for subtlety.

Thorin's mind was still full of fear for his hobbit as he fell into a restless sleep.

* * * * *

Bilbo woke with a start, taking a moment to gaze around the room suspiciously, before remembering where he was. He was wrapped snuggly in fur blankets, nestled into a soft mattress and far more feather pillows than any one person could need. Dark blue curtains were drawn around the bed he was tucked so comfortably into, blocking much of the view of the rest of the room. Bilbo pulled back the curtain, revealing a quite spacious bedroom. The walls and floor were of dark polished stone, natural veins of gold running through them like streams over the mountainside. A fire flickered cheerfully across the room, flanked by two cream colored armchairs. A table stood between the chairs, already holding a tray with what was sure to be breakfast. 

Bilbo stretched and smiled contentedly, then scrambled out of bed to indulge in some much needed sustenance. He had just sat himself before the fire, delving in to a slice of fresh bread and cheese when there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in?” Bilbo called out around his mouthful. The door creaked open, revealing a certain smirking wizard.   
“Bilbo Baggins, you nearly look like you're back to your old self,” Gandalf said as he entered the room, “and in the royal chambers, as well?” He raised a bushy gray brow at the hobbit, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, well, yes. Thorin thought it might be more convenient for me to stay somewhere that was easily accessible to the rest of the mountain,” Bilbo rambled unconvincingly.  
“Indeed.” Gandalf leveled him with a look that told the hobbit he was obviously not convinced.  
“Well, I came to bid you farewell. I have stayed far longer than intended already.” The wizard approached Bilbo and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Send a raven when you set a date.”

“I- a date? What- ?” Bilbo sputtered indignantly. Gandalf raised his brows, deepening the creases in his forehead as he graced Bilbo with a knowing look. Bilbo twitched his nose nervously, before admitting defeat with a slump of his shoulders and a sigh of resignation. “Yes alright, but don't you go saying anything to that rabble of miscreants on your way out!” Only Bilbo would feel comfortable enough to point a scolding finger in a wizards face.

Gandalf laughed and patted the shoulder under his wrinkled hand.   
“Of course not my dear hobbit, I will leave quietly.”   
With that, he headed back towards the door, before spinning around to face the hobbit again.   
“Oh and Bilbo, you may want to avoid spending too much time alone. I'm sure the king would be more than happy to see to that.” He turned and swept out of the room in a swirl of gray robes, leaving Bilbo flustered and blushing furiously by the fire. 

Bilbo sat for several minutes, before deciding that, while Gandalf may be a meddlesome pain in the backside, he was also correct. He had only just begun to recover days before, and should probably seek out some company. He sighed and pushed himself up to his feet. He may as well do as the wizard suggested and he would start by finding Thorin. He dressed himself quickly, combing out the tangle of curly hair on his head, and then on his feet, and headed out to find the king.

* * * * *

Bilbo was wandering through the mountain halls, deep in thought. He wondered what news from the Iron Hills had dragged Thorin from their interlude the previous night. Surely Balin would only have interrupted if it was absolutely necessary, given that the whole company seemed aware of the significance of the evening. He felt himself warming at the memory of a solid body beneath him, warm hands on his skin and the promise for so much more. He grinned soppily to himself and ran right in to the object of his musings. A strong hand caught his wrist, halting his impending fall to the unforgiving stone floor. 

“Bilbo, are you alright?” Thorin's voice was soft as he pulled Bilbo upright.   
“Oh, oh- oh yes. Quite alright,” Bilbo muttered as he met the king's gaze. “Very, very much alright.”

Thorin shook himself and straightened. He nodded stiffly and released Bilbo's arm, then turned and strode away without another word. 

Well that was.... odd. Perhaps Thorin simply had pressing matters to tend to, being king and all. Bilbo tried not to let it bother him, though the stark contrast between the dwarf he had been with last night and the one he just ran into was a bit alarming. He furrowed his brow, shaking his head and began wandering aimlessly, passing tangles of unknown dwarves as they looked over tunnels and removed rubble from entrances and passageways. 

It occurred to Bilbo that there were many of Dain's army that had stayed after the battle to help with the rebuilding. He thought of Dain's foul words that day near the healing tents. Did any of these dwarves hold the same opinion of him as their king? He started to notice a few curious looks, and perhaps some laced with scorn as he traveled the halls. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. He decided to look for his friends, feeling the sudden need for a familiar friendly face to accompany him. At least the scathing looks would not hold so much weight if he were not alone. 

The passageway Bilbo had been walking down suddenly opened into a large chamber, not as large as the treasury or throne room, but still quite vast. There were piles of debris everywhere, scattered tapestries and clothing and other belongings from the past. Then as luck would have it, Bilbo spotted Dori, face mostly hidden by the large bundle of fabric he was carrying. He strode up to the dwarf, catching the bundle before it toppled from Dori's hands.

“Here, let me help,” Bilbo insisted, taking some of the dwarf's burden.  
“Oh! Bilbo! Why thank you, I was just on my way to see you. Follow me please,” Dori exclaimed in a most motherly voice. 

Bilbo knew better than to try to argue with Dori, and so he followed him right back through the mountain and back to the room he had just vacated. 

“You were coming here, to see me?” Bilbo questioned.  
“Yes. I found all this fabric, and figured it would be put to good use. Your current attire is looking a little worse for wear.”  
“This is all for me? Surely there are many others who require clothing more,” Bilbo insisted.  
“Nonsense, Bilbo. Those dwarvish clothes that have been found and are worth salvaging are being repaired even as we speak. These however, are beyond repair for dwarf use, but I could certainly cut them down and put together clothing that is much more hobbit sized.”

Bilbo really couldn't argue with that logic, and instead held still while Dori measured him. As the dwarf worked, Bilbo decided to do some digging.

“Dori, have you seen Thorin today?” he asked casually.  
“Oh. I saw him heading to the throne room earlier, but that is not to say he's still there. The king is quite busy these days you know,” Dori replied.

Bilbo nodded and pondered this a bit, still not convinced there wasn't more to Thorin's earlier flippancy. He thanked the dwarf and asked that he accompany him to the throne room so he could look for Thorin. Dori of course obliged and led Bilbo through the mountain and to a very crowded throne room.

Bilbo followed Dori up a flight of stairs and along a sturdy rail. He stood on a balcony high above the large room, and there below him was the king. There were not many dwarves yet in Erebor, given that the mountain had only been reclaimed less than a year before, but there was still quite a crowd gathered to see the king.

Bilbo watched in awe as Thorin saw to his subjects, hearing every grievance and listening carefully to each individual dwarf who came before him. As Bilbo had always suspected, Thorin seemed to be a great king, loved by his subjects, few as they were.

After a short while, Thorin glanced up and caught sight of Bilbo. Bilbo watched as the king's posture tensed, his jaw clenched and his shoulders pulled up, his hands balling in to fists.

Oh dear. Was Thorin upset with him? Bilbo wracked his brain for some reasonable explanation for the king's response to his presence, but came up short. 

Bilbo glanced at Dori, who was frowning down at the scene.   
“What's come over Thorin? He seems so tense,” Dori put Bilbo's thoughts into words.   
Bilbo fidgeted with his waistcoat before addressing the dwarf. “Perhaps we should go. As you said. The king appears to be quite busy.” With that, Bilbo turned and stalked off, Dori keeping up pace behind him. 

“Wait! Wait Bilbo!” a young voice carried over the din of the room as Bilbo retreated out the door. “Bilbo!” Kili finally caught the hobbit and grabbed his arm, turning Bilbo to face him. “Do you know what's going on with uncle? He is in a most foul mood. Didn't turn him down last night, did you?” Kili's tone was lacking it's usual hint of humor, his face a mask of concern.

“I don't know what Thorin's issue is, thank you very much. And if I had anything to do with it, I am not aware how. You'll have to ask him,” Bilbo spit angrily and turned on his heel and stormed off towards the dining hall.

* * * * *  
Bilbo sat at the table alone, feeling quite guilty for having taken his frustrations out on poor Kili. He looked at the book in his hands, seeing the words, but not registering them as his brain worked overtime on other things. He mulled over the days events for the millionth time, trying to make sense of Thorin's behavior. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots entering the room. His head snapped up as Dwalin and Ori entered, making their way over to sit across from him. No doubt they would want to discuss the king as well, and Bilbo wasn't sure he had the patience for it at the moment. 

Dwalin sat first, Ori perching himself almost in the guards lap, and they looked at Bilbo expectantly. Bilbo kept his gaze pointedly on the pages before him.

“Hello, Bilbo,” Ori greeted him.  
“Hello Ori. Dwalin,” Bilbo replied, trying to encourage them to shove off as he buried his nose back in his book. He knew he was being rude, and the Baggins in him mentally scoffed at his lack of manners. 

“Bilbo?” Ori's voice was soft and full of concern, only inflaming Bilbo's already short fuse. Bilbo slammed his book onto the table.  
“I don't know what's wrong with him, alright? I had nothing to do with it, as far as I'm aware. Eru forbid he should come to me and talk about things that are clearly bothering him, instead of sulking all over the mountain like a great brooding fool!” Bilbo ranted, flipping his hands irately.

“Perhaps you should try to talk to him,” Ori suggested.  
“Oh, that is a fantastic idea. Why don't you tie him up for me, so he won't run away every time I get near him. Then, he'll be more than willing to listen to what I have to say, and even more eager to tell me what his problem is, yes?”

Dwalin closed his eyes and shook his head, chuckling a bit.  
“And what exactly is so damn funny?”  
“What a pair you two make. Couple of love sick fools dancing circles around each other.” Dwalin chuckled again.

Ori frowned, clearly disapproving of Dwalin's finding humor at Bilbo's expense.   
“What Dwalin's getting at is, Thorin has always been the kind to hold things in, but that's not necessarily because he wants to. We all know what you mean to him. If he's avoiding you-”

“If he's avoiding you, it's probably some jacked up noble sacrifice he thinks he's doing you a favor with,” Dwalin finished.

Bilbo gave Dwalin a searching look. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean, there is probably some just and noble cause, as far as he's concerned. He's probably found some reason he thinks you being with him isn't good for you, and now he's decided on your behalf that it's not worth the risk.”  
Bilbo considered that for a moment, frowning at his clasped hands on the table. “What you're saying is, Thorin is avoiding me, because he feels he knows what is good for me, better than I?” 

Dwalin nodded. “Aye, fraid so, lad.”  
Ori reached over and clasped Bilbo's hands with one of his own. “He means well, Bilbo. Thorin truly cares for you. Just talk to him?”  
Bilbo twitched his nose. “Right then.” He nodded, then jumped up and left the room without another word. 

Bilbo made his way back to the royal wing, deciding he would wait there for Thorin's return, instead of following him all over the vast mountain halls. The king couldn't avoid coming back to his own rooms forever. 

Upon reaching said rooms, Bilbo strode to his own bedchamber and settle before the hearth and tried again to read his book while he waited for his stubborn dwarf.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the added tags, let me know if I need to add any!  
> I hope I do not disappoint. Enjoy!

It must have been near midnight when Bilbo jerked awake, his book having fallen on the floor at his feet, and the fire in the hearth had burned down to a mere glow of hot embers. He shook himself a bit, rubbing the sleep from his eye, as he tried to remember just what he was doing in a chair and not wrapped up in the bed. 

Ah yes. Thorin. Thorin, the fool, was in need of a good scolding. Bilbo was certain the king would be back in his room by this hour. He could possibly have waited until morning, but Bilbo knew he would not be able to fall asleep again until all this mess was dealt with. 

Bilbo padded out into the sitting room, stopping before the closed door of Thorin's bedroom and knocked briskly. Thorin's voice was raspy and thick with sleep as he beckoned the hobbit in. 

Bilbo strode purposefully into the dark room, placing his hands on his hips as he addressed the dark mass in the bed that must be Thorin.

“You've been avoiding me,” Bilbo said angrily, “and I have a slight idea as to why, but I would prefer to hear your version.”  
Thorin closed his eyes, letting out a harsh breath. “Must we do this now?” The dwarf sounded exhausted, but Bilbo could not bring himself to feel much pity.  
“Yes, your highness, we must. I'd like to know why one moment you're offering courtship and the next you can't bare to be in the same room with me!” Bilbo began pacing in front of the doorway, eyes trained on where his feet should be, but the room was swallowed up in all encompassing darkness.

There was a rustling of bedsheets as Thorin rolled over to light a candle on the nightstand. The faint golden flicker of light caught in Bilbo's periphery, but he didn't look up as Thorin flopped back to lay against the pillow with a resigned sigh.  
“Yes. I have been avoiding you.” Thorin sighed again wearily. “I fear there may be dire consequences if we are together.”  
“For you, or for me?” Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose before looking up at the dwarf in the bed. He felt his breath hitch as he took in the sight before him, the anger that had fueled him flickering out like a snuffed candle. 

Thorin was laid out over the bed, a thin sheet pulled up between his bare legs and draped over part of his chest. The candle light flickered warm and soft across his naked skin, sparkling off the streaks of silver in the dark halo of midnight hair spilled across his pillow. He looked up at Bilbo with a burning blue gaze.

Bilbo whimpered slightly as the sheet shifted, giving him an even clearer view of the dwarf. He pinched his eyes closed and swallowed audibly. Thorin looked up at him with concern. “Bilbo, are you alright?”

Bilbo nodded vigorously in response and met Thorin's gaze. Thorin's breath caught at the look of unbridled desire in Bilbo's eyes. Heat began to spread through the dwarf, making him all too aware of his state of undress. His mouth went dry as he watched Bilbo's gaze rove over him with hunger, his pink tongue darting out to wet parted lips. The air was thick with anticipation as Thorin reached a hand out in invitation. 

Bilbo looked at the dwarf's large outstretched hand, then back at the naked form on the bed. He cast a resigned look at the ceiling, grabbed Thorin's hand and eased down onto the already warm sheets snuggling in next to the king. He laid a hesitant hand on Thorin's chest as the dwarf rolled onto his side to face him. The air between them was warm and heavy, and in the intimacy of the moment, their conversation became a whisper.

“Why?” Bilbo asked softly.  
“My cousin. He is not the only one who may not be so accepting of......”  
“Elves and hobbits in the mountain?” Bilbo offered.  
Thorin nodded somberly. “I do not fear their disapproval. I fear retaliation. I fear for you.” 

Bilbo's brow furrowed as he considered his words carefully for a moment. 

“Thorin, trust me enough to know that I am more than willing to endure whatever they throw at me, if it means I can be with you. You are.....” he waved his hand flippantly, gesturing to Thorin's glorious form, “you. You are a king. And I'm well aware what that could mean for me, or anybody you were to get close to. You may have enemies, Thorin Oakenshield, but that doesn't mean you should be alone for the rest of your life. I have faced trolls, and orcs, and wargs, and dragons with you. For you. And.... and I love you. I love you and I am not going to be scared away by some insolent fool dwarf looking for trouble,” Bilbo smiled at him wryly, “or your cousin.” 

Thorin chuckled a little. So there it was. He had Bilbo's love. He knew he scarcely deserved it, given all that had happened between him. But he had no right to tell Bilbo what he should want, or what it should be worth to him. He knew there would be no arguing with the hobbit now his mind was made up. 

They regarded each other for a moment, before Thorin leaned in to take Bilbo's lips with his own. He placed a warm hand at the small of Bilbo's back, rubbing in slow circles.

Bilbo melted in to the contact, relishing the smell of sleep on Thorin's skin, and the warmth of his body so close. He pulled back and unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric whispering as it slid from his arms and down onto the floor. He groaned as hands began roving over his exposed skin, then again as Thorin took his mouth with fervor, their kisses becoming a bit more heated, more desperate and hungry.

Thorin was insatiable. He could not get enough of Bilbo, he could not taste enough, could not touch enough, could not satisfy his need for more. He froze as a hand slid down and took his half hard cock in a sure but gentle grip. Bilbo noticed Thorin's sudden hesitancy and looked up at him questioningly. “Do you want me to stop?” 

Thorin stared at Bilbo with hooded eyes as the hobbit studied his face.  
“No. Don't ever stop.” 

The air nearly crackled with the electricity of the moment, tingling pleasantly across Thorin's skin. He closed his eyes as Bilbo leaned in to kiss him again and rolled their hips together. They groaned into each others mouths as their lengths rubbed against each other through the fabric of Bilbo's pants. 

Bilbo pulled back and hastily removed the offending garments, throwing them across the room. He moved closer as Thorin leaned in to kiss his jaw, then brushed his lips lightly down the side of Bilbo's neck. The hobbit's pulse quickened and he shuddered pleasantly as Thorin ran his tongue over his collarbone and up to nibble gently where his neck met his shoulder. Bilbo closed his eyes as Thorin's hands roved up his chest and down his arms, inducing chills and shivers as fingertips brought every inch of skin they touched roaring to life. Thorin threw off the sheet and moved to hover over the hobbit, settling between his legs. He pressed soft kisses over Bilbo's pounding heart, his hair tickling the hobbit's sensitive skin. 

Bilbo's breath hitched and he closed his eyes again as rough lips dipped lower down his abdomen and a tongue ran teasingly over the flesh above his groin. There was nothing for a moment, as Thorin was rearranging himself. Bilbo looked down curiously, then threw his head back and moaned obscenely as his cock was engulfed in wet heat. His hips lifted of their own accord, desperate for more of the sucking pressure. His thoughts were consumed with all encompassing need. He flung his hands down to curl into Thorin's hair and hold him in place, gasping and groaning as he his hips pulsed up into the slick heat. 

With great difficulty, Bilbo stopped his movements and glanced down at Thorin apologetically. The dwarf shot Bilbo a reassuring look. “Don't stop,” he whispered to the shaking mess of a hobbit. He wrapped his hand around the base of Bilbo's cock and allowed the hobbit to thrust frantically into his mouth. 

It was not long before Bilbo's hips began to stutter erratically, and his breath caught as he neared his peak. His stomach tightened and his jaw dropped in a silent shout. With a strong final thrust of his hips, he moaned Thorin's name, releasing hotly into the kings mouth. 

Thorin pulled off and climbed up to lay next to the pile of panting hobbit sweating on the bedsheets.

“Shire's hills,” Bilbo let out between ragged breaths.  
He shook himself, taking once last grounding breath and rolled up to sitting.  
“Oil?” Bilbo asked.  
Thorin pointed across the room. “Over there.”  
Bilbo hopped up and strode boldly across the room. He returned with a small pot of clear oil. It smelled like Thorin, warm and wild, like leather and earth. He climbed back up onto the bed, laying down next to Thorin and handing him the oil. Thorin sat up and arranged himself between Bilbo's knees. Bilbo watched with anticipation as the dwarf removed the lid and slicked his fingers. 

Thorin brought his slick fingers down, running them teasingly over Bilbo's crack, then slowly worked his finger around Bilbo's entrance, massaging softly. Despite his eagerness, Bilbo couldn't help tensing a bit at the contact.  
“Breathe,” Thorin whispered softly.  
Bilbo did as he was told, taking in a shuddering breath. As he exhaled, a fingertip gently slid into him, eliciting a small gasp from his lips.  
Thorin held completely still as the hobbit acclimated.  
“Are you alright?” Thorin asked softly.  
Bilbo nodded, and pinched his eyes closed as the intruding finger began to move, then inhaled sharply when it hit a spot inside him that had the blood rushing back to his cock. Thorin looked up at Bilbo in concern, then he crooked his finger again, smiling wolfishly when Bilbo let out an appreciative moan. 

Thorin worked Bilbo open slowly and thoroughly, until the hobbit was a writhing mess beneath him. When he was convinced Bilbo was ready, he got up on his knees and grabbed his throbbing shaft, lining himself up. He watched the hobbit's face as he slid slowly into the hot, tight opening. Bilbo kept his eyes closed, taking deep shuddering breaths as Thorin pressed into him agonizingly slow. 

Bilbo groaned when Thorin's hips came flush with his body, filling him in a most delicious way. Thorin pulled out just a little, then thrust back in experimentally. Bilbo whimpered and pushed his hips down on Thorin's cock. “Move,” he rasped out breathily.

Thorin took up a slow but steady pace, hands gripping Bilbo's hips with bruising strength. Bilbo couldn't help, even in the heat of the moment, but to recall those very hands holding him down on the wall, threatening to let go. And oh, these thoughts should not be having this affect on him. He imagined those hands holding him down again, but in an entirely different way. 

“Thorin, Thorin take my wrists,” he gasped out desperately.  
Thorin stopped moving and gave Bilbo a confused look.  
“What?”  
“Take my wrists and hold me down,” Bilbo pressed.  
“You want me... to restrain you?” Thorin's voice was cautious.  
Bilbo shook his head, a bit embarrassed. “Oh... never mind.”

Thorin slowly grasped the hobbit's wrists in his hands, keeping his grip loose. He looked at Bilbo questioningly and was met with dark lust filled eyes. Encouraged, he pinned Bilbo's hands above his head, holding them forcefully to the mattress. Bilbo's eyes never left Thorin's as his mouth fell open in a soft gasp. 

Oh. Oh.  
The affect was intoxicating. Thorin felt high on the power of having Bilbo at his mercy, knowing he could do anything at this point, and Bilbo trusted him fully. Thorin laid his body against the hobbit's, careful to keep from crushing him, but just enough that Bilbo would feel pinned. He began to roll his hips slow and hard, relishing the noises falling from his hobbit's lips. He brought his face right next to Bilbo's, surrounding them in a dark curtain of hair. 

“Mine....” he growled low in his chest. His voice was like the purr of a mountain lion, content and alluring, but oh so dangerous. The vibrations rolled from his chest and all down Bilbo's body, shooting straight to his cock.  
“Yes, yes, yours,” Bilbo gasped out.  
Thorin brought his mouth to Bilbo's neck, his breath whispering across the hobbit's skin, sending chills down Bilbo's spine. He brought his mouth to the creamy flesh and sucked a dark bruise there, marking Bilbo as his own. 

Thorin pulled back and grasped Bilbo's wrists with one hand, bringing the other to grasp Bilbo's cock and stroke. He picked up his pace, thrusting harder and deeper into the writhing hobbit. He watched in awe as Bilbo came apart beneath him, head thrown back against the pillows, Thorin's name a moan on his lips, his back arched and hands balling in to fists as he came hard over Thorin's hand. The sight and sounds pushed Thorin into his own blazing crescendo. He roared brokenly as it hit him, toes curling and back arching, then he collapsed on top of the hobbit in a heap. 

All was silent for a few minutes before Thorin rolled back down next to Bilbo. The two lay quietly together, listening to each other's panting breaths die down and return to normal. 

“Remind me to berate you more often,” Bilbo bantered.  
Thorin chuckled lightly and rolled to his side, pulling the sheet over them and dragging his hobbit to his chest. Bilbo nestled in under his chin, sighing contentedly before the two fell asleep.

* * * * *

Thorin swore he heard his name whispered, pulling him into that foggy place between sleep and waking. He frowned as it came again, bringing him further into awareness. 

Warmth. There was a soft warm body nestled against him. A steady breath tickled the hair on his chest, a heart beat slowly against his own, and something silky and feathered tickled his chin, winding in the hairs of his beard. His eyes flew open as he remembered the evening's events, and his brain finally placed the voice that woke him as one of his nephews, even as his vision cleared enough to land on Kili's elated face.

Damn.

“Uncle, whatever have you been doing, still abed at this hour? Why, it's already mid day, and Balin has been quite beside himself wondering what's been holding you up. I see you have shirked your duties in favor of much more.... pressing matters.” Kili's face was a bit too pleased for Thorin's liking. 

Thorin grimaced and threw a hand over his face, blocking out the too-bright light coming in from the wide open door.  
“Durin's beard,” Thorin grumbled before turning to face his nephew.  
“Kili get out! We will be down for lunch in a moment,” Thorin's shout followed Kili's chuckling form out of the room, leaving Thorin and Bilbo to wake and ready themselves for the day.

* * * * *

After a quick bath, or perhaps what was intended to be a quick bath, that turned into another romp, Bilbo and Thorin strode casually hand in hand down to the dining hall, sharing meaningful glances and soft smiles all the way. 

“I have never missed so many meals in favor of staying in bed,” Bilbo broke the silence, giving Thorin a sidelong glance. 

Thorin stopped short, grinning down at the hobbit. “I hope you don't mind, I quite enjoy keeping you in my bed.” He leaned in to kiss his hobbit gently. Bilbo lost himself to the moment, his hands moving automatically to tangle in Thorin's hair and pull him into the hobbit's body.

The pointed clearing of a throat and a whistle brought Bilbo's pounding heart to an abrupt stop, his eyes flew open and heat crept up his face as he realized they were standing in the doorway of the dining hall, in plain sight of the entire company. 

“Bilbo! Didn't expect you would be up and around and seducing royalty already!” Bofur's cheerful voice carried over the throng of laughing dwarves gathered at the table.

Bilbo closed his eyes, groaning miserably, and Thorin had the gall to look down at him and smile wickedly. “You! You knew they could see!” Bilbo sputtered out.  
“They had to find out eventually,” Thorin said with no remorse.

Damn kings and dwarfs and all manner of.... beings without manners! Bilbo marched over to sit with the company, face retaining the bright red hue it seemed to favor of late. Thorin slid in right next to him, looking far too amused, and filled Bilbo's plate. The hobbit sat in silence, trying in vain to ignore the knowing looks and winks sent his way. He knew he would have to get used to this, all the open affection and well-meant ribbing. He smiled in spite of his discomfiture, looking around the table at the entire company of Thorin Oakenshield. They were all here, all of his dwarves, and Bilbo couldn't be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments have been greatly appreciated. It’s wonderful to have your encouragement


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, but a bit of excitement! Enjoy!

The next few weeks passed in a haze. Bilbo was happier than he could ever remember being, having found his place in the mountain. Having a knack for words and problem solving, he found himself helping Thorin read over treaties and securing trade with the men of Dale. His days were full, therefore, and his nights were spent with Thorin, having deep conversations and drinking tea by the fire, then making love well into the night. 

Bilbo's hunger for Thorin was ever burning, and as such, their bed sport began to spill over outside of the bedroom. It caught Thorin off guard at first, finding himself yanked in to an odd closet or dark corner with a lust filled hobbit pulling at his laces. Though, he could not find it in himself to complain, not when Bilbo was eager and on his knees, and so he quickly adjusted. And wasn't it fascinating how much it drove Bilbo wild when he would pin the hobbit against a wall, attacking his neck and throat with teeth and tongue. Bilbo would keen and whine until Thorin took him in hand, and oh, the things he would say. Such a proper hobbit, with such a filthy mouth. 

Thorin was sitting down to lunch in the dining hall with Bilbo, thinking of their last interlude. In a pantry. Fifteen minutes ago. He could still taste Bilbo on his tongue, and the thought was having quite an affect on him. 

Thorin looked down at Bilbo and his easy countenance faded, giving way to concern.  
“Bilbo? What is it?”  
Bilbo shook his head. “It's nothing, it's not....” Bilbo sighed and gave up, deciding it was best to just be straightforward, lest the king make his own ridiculous assumptions. “Just that... it's been weeks. Has anybody heard anything of Dain? I'm beginning to feel a bit uneasy.”

Thorin sighed heavily. “No. There has been no sight or word of Dain. But you are quite protected, Bilbo. Fear not, my love, he wouldn't dare enter the mountain.”  
Bilbo looked across the table at the red haired beauty sitting next to Kili.  
“Is there anyone seeing to Tauriel's safety? I'm sure there are dwarves already in this mountain that would like to see her.... disappear....”

Thorin frowned. “I guess I haven't put much thought into it. And Tauriel is a warrior in her own rite. But if it would bring you comfort, I can talk to Kili about ensuring her safety.”  
Bilbo nodded his agreement. “I think that would be a good idea.” He went back to his meal, mind now sifting through all he knew of the former elven guard captain.

Bilbo agreed with Thorin on one thing. The elf was a warrior. He thought of her blades striking down countless orcs, her movements fluid and lethal as she spun and twirled, dipping and dodging arrows and blades alike as if they were nothing. Bilbo shivered at the memory. Though as he thought about it, he realized he didn't know much else about Tauriel, aside from her ability to dole out death faster than a hobbit could eat mushrooms. He knew Thorin had a council meeting, then planned to work in the forge, and was likely to be gone all day. Perhaps Bilbo would see if the elf would like to keep him company.

As the dwarves finished eating and dispersed one by one, Bilbo addressed the elf maiden across from him.  
“Tauriel?” the elf looked up at him with intelligent golden eyes, “Would you like to join me for tea this afternoon?” Bilbo asked politely.  
Tauriel looked slightly surprised, but smiled and nodded at him. “It would be my honor, Master Baggins.” 

Kili and Thorin regarded each other uncertainly, as their significant others beamed at each other across the table. Thorin seemed to gain his composure first, realizing what the acceptance of the elf meant to Kili, judging by the look on his face at the hobbit's obvious approval. “That's not a bad idea, since Kili and I are both needed at this afternoon's council meeting. Feel free to use our sitting room, if you'd like.” Thorin met Tauriel's eye with a meaningful look. “I would be honored for my nephew's future wife to grace the royal chambers.”

Tauriel's responding smile was nothing to the elated whoop that came from Kili's mouth. “Uncle, are you giving your blessing?!”

Thorin nodded softly, a flicker of a smile hinting around his mouth. “But, you'll still need your mother's approval before it can be official,” Thorin warned.

Kili nodded excitedly. “She won't say no, I know mother, she will approve.” Kili hugged Tauriel tightly and she giggled a little at his mirth. “I will see you after the council meeting, my love,” he said to her softly.  
“I love you Kili,” Tauriel whispered as Kili pulled their foreheads gently together. 

Bilbo was surprised when a bearded mouth caught his in a quick kiss, then pulled away as Thorin stood. “I will see you this evening. I am headed to the forges after the meeting,” the dwarf rumbled. “I love you, Bilbo.” And with that, he grabbed his nephew by the back of the tunic and dragged him off to deal with the council.

Bilbo looked up at Tauriel, both red faced and smiling goofily at their beloved dwarves antics.  
“So, what was all that about gracing the royal chambers?” Bilbo asked the elf and they stood, making their way toward the door.

“Before your return, after Thorin had allowed Kili and I back into the mountain, Kili offered me a bead,” Tauriel began as they strolled easily through the halls, “Thorin pitched quite a fit. He had given Kili permission to come back to the mountain, and even for him to court me. But I suspect he had hoped Kili would decide our love was merely an infatuation. He and Kili had quite a row over it. The king declared he would never allow us to marry, much less allow me to reside in the royal chambers with Kili. So Kili took up chambers elsewhere. We're currently staying in one of the lower halls. It's not all bad, but I know it troubles Kili, as well as his brother, to be so far apart.”

Bilbo nodded. “I'm sorry you've had such a hard time of it. Thorin is stubborn, but he's not a complete idiot. Well, most of the time,” Bilbo and Tauriel chuckled lightly as they reached the royal chambers. Bilbo opened the door for Tauriel, following her inside and closing the door silently behind him. He looked up and stopped dead in his tracks next to the elf when he saw them. Three dwarves, armed and at the ready, were standing just inside the door.

* * * * *

“WHERE IS HE?!” Thorin roared as he marched menacingly through the mountain halls.  
“Thorin, please, slow down! We must come up with a plan before we go storming through the mountain with no direction!” Balin pleaded from behind him, struggling to keep up with Thorin's pace.  
Kili was right beside him, an air of desperation clinging to them both as they searched fruitlessly for the elf and the hobbit. They had sent search parties through all of Erebor, determined to find Tauriel and Bilbo before anything horrible could happen to them. Thorin put his hand in his pocket, running his fingers over the mithril bead he had just finished that evening. He had intended to give it to Bilbo after dinner, but had returned to find the royal chambers in ruins. It was clear by the state of the furniture that the elf and hobbit had put up a very good fight, but judging by the blood on the carpet, they must have been taken by surprised and overpowered. There were footprints and drops of blood that led down the corridor outside their rooms, but it vanished not far down the hall. 

Kili couldn't help the foul thoughts that ran through his mind. The dwarves that did this had no respect for elves, and if they were looking for ransom, they already had Bilbo. Much as he didn't want to believe it, he couldn't help but fear that Tauriel may already be dead. He cursed and picked up his pace, Thorin matching it without thought. They both stopped when Nori came hustling around a corner in front of them, calling for the king.

“Thorin! Thorin, we got him. We've captured Dain.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little violence in this chapter, though it's pretty minimal. I have to admit I didn't proof read this one quite as thoroughly as the last few, as I was pretty eager to get something posted! It's been too long. I hope you enjoy it!

Cold. It was cold. There was the echoing sound of water dripping somewhere, and the smell of earth. Rock and soil and.... wet. Bilbo took stock of himself as the heavy fog lifted slowly. His head hurt, and his hands were bound behind him. His muscles ached, and his wrists were raw where rope held them a little too tightly. He was sitting on cold, damp stone, leaning back against something warm. Something alive, and breathing. 

Bilbo slowly opened his eyes, flinching against the throb in the back of his head. He scanned the dark room, taking in his surroundings and figured he was in some sort of cell. There was a large door with a barred window on the other side of the dark enclosed space. He turned his head slightly and saw a cascade of red hair sprawled across the muddy ground next to him. 

Tauriel.

Bilbo wiggled his fingers slightly, feeling them brush against impossibly soft hands. He tried again in earnest, hoping to wake the unconscious elf. Tauriel's sharp intake of breath signaled her return to awareness. 

“Master Baggins?” she whispered softly into the darkness.  
“Yes, I'm here,” Bilbo answered.  
Tauriel let her eyes adjust, but found no indication of their whereabouts, or any visible route of escape. “What is the last thing you remember?” She asked the hobbit.

“All I remember is three very angry looking dwarves standing inside the door. There was a lot of fighting and confusion, then everything went dark,” Bilbo answered.  
“It's the same for me,” Tauriel's voice sounded defeated, as though she'd already given up on being found.

Both hobbit and elf snapped their heads up when the door to their prison opened with a clang and the groan of rusty hinges. A sandy haired dwarf walked in through the doorway. He strode up to the captives, then, without warning, swung out a booted foot, landing a blow to Bilbo's ribs. Bilbo fell forward, his breath wooshed from his lungs as his face hit the cold stone of the floor.  
“What do you want?!” Tauriel demanded of their captor.  
The dwarf slapped Tauriel with the back of his hand, sending her sprawling into the wall. 

“The both of you dead!” The dwarf growled, grabbing his sword. He advanced on the two, clearly deciding he would not be dealing a swift death. He took Bilbo by the hair and started punching him unmercifully in the stomach.  
“Wait! Wait!” a voice came echoing from the hall outside the cell. A frazzled dark haired dwarf reached the doorway, breathless and obviously ruffled. He stopped to catch his breath before addressing the other.  
“He has Dain! King Thorin has Dain. We need to abort the plan.”

The sandy haired dwarf turned back to Bilbo and Tauriel.  
“Change of plans. Him, we need to secure the release of our king. You?” he pointed to where Tauriel lay against the wall, “We have no use for you. Only the reassurance that you will never walk through the halls of our fathers again,” the dwarf spat out venomously. The dark haired dwarf grinned, clapping the sandy haired dwarf on the shoulder, then strode back out into the hall. The remaining dwarf rounded on Tauriel and began kicking the elf, his boot connecting over and over with her side and face.

“Now just a moment!” Bilbo yelled at the dwarf. The dwarf stopped his assault and looked up, mostly in shock at the hobbit's demanding tone. “Tauriel is officially betrothed to the prince of Erebor. I believe she is the one you should be holding for ransom.”

The dwarf looked at the hobbit in confusion. “Impossible. The king would never have allowed-”  
“Oh wouldn't he?” Bilbo leveled the dwarf with a challenging look. “Just today he gave the prince his blessing. Even agreed to let the elf live in the royal quarters,” Bilbo said arrogantly.

“Wait, no, Bilbo, you don't have to do this-” Tauriel started, but was interrupted as the hobbit addressed the dwarf again.  
“And what glory is there in beating on a maid, elf or otherwise?” the hobbit said accusingly, “I thought dwarves had a code of honor.” He shook his head in distaste at the infuriated dwarf before him. 

“Alright halfling-”  
“Hobbit!”  
The dwarf sneered. “You want the maid to go unharmed?” He leaned in to hiss right in Bilbo's face. “You can be the honorable one and fight me for her.” With that, the dwarf cut the ropes binding Bilbo's wrists and threw a sword at his feet. “Arm yourself, halfling.”

Bilbo shot the dwarf a hostile look and picked up the sword from the ground at his feet. 

* * * * *

Thorin marched through the halls, rage hovering around him like a brewing storm. Kili and Balin trailed not far behind, Kili silent, his face unreadable, and Balin frowning with concern. Thorin stopped short before the room where his cousin was being held, directing Dwalin and Dori, who were standing watch, to open the door. Dain was seated in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by guards. Thorin shouldered past them and grabbed his cousin roughly by the front of his tunic with both hands. 

“Where. Is. Bilbo.” His voice was low and dangerous, and Dain tried his best to keep his face blank.  
“I- I don't know,” Dain stuttered out, a little intimidated at Thorin's tempered rage. He knew too well by the way the hands that held him shook that Thorin's blood was boiling beneath his skin.  
“Oh, I think you do. I think you know exactly where he is. And if you won't tell me, I will drag it out of you,” Thorin growled.

Balin put a hand on his shoulder. “Thorin, wait just a moment, guilty or not, Dain is a king! We can't just go-” Kili cut him off, leaning around the white haired dwarf, and threw his fist into Dain's face, knocking him out of Thorin's grasp and onto the floor. 

Thorin and Balin whipped their heads around, leveling Kili with matching shocked expressions. Kili didn't seem to notice. He lunged forward, landing on top of Dain. He planted his feet, grabbing Dain's front with one hand, and punched him three more times with the other.  
“Where is Tauriel?!” he screamed at the king. 

Dain reached up and wiped the blood from his nose, then looked up at Thorin with a scathing look. “This is your fault,” he rasped, “you allowed elven filth into this mountain-” he was cut off by another blow from Kili's fist.

“Kili, that's enough!” Thorin grabbed his nephew and pried him off of Dain.

“You let that halfling seduce you, and now you think he loves you?! Don't be a fool! He and the elf are in it together! They are after the gold! After the treasure of Erebor! And you allowed them to get close! Close to the honorable line of Durin!” Dain's face was red in his fury, he nearly shook with it, spit flying out as he spewed his hostile words at Thorin. “Death will come for you if you continue on this path! The halfing! The elf! They will be the death of both of you!!! Of ALL of us! The arkenstone! They are after the Arkenstone! All of them!”

“ENOUGH!!!” Thorin bellowed at the crazed dwarf on the stone floor. He looked his cousin over, confusion evident on his face. This was an entirely different situation than Thorin had originally assumed. He understood a dwarf's distrust of others, of elves, and men, and other peoples of middle earth. But this went beyond that. He rubbed his temples in frustration and swiftly marched out of the room. “Balin, Kili, with me!” The two followed the king out, Kili shooting one last disgusted look at Dain, and stopped when Thorin pulled them into the hall. 

“He is sick.” Thorin said simply.  
“Well spotted,” Kili remarked, not even trying to hide his sarcasm.  
“No. He's not just... crazy... it's-”  
“Dragonsickness,” Balin finished for him. Thorin nodded solemnly.  
“I know what it does. I know how it feels. Let me talk to him, I have a plan. And Kili, please, wait here.”  
“NO! I will-”  
“You will do as your king commands!” Thorin demanded. He dropped his gaze for a moment and sighed heavily, his face softening a bit. He put a hand on Kili's shoulder gently, leaning closer and meeting his nephews eye. “Please, Kili. I understand how you feel, but I know it would be best for you to stay away from Dain right now.”  
Kili turned his head away angrily. “Fine.”  
Thorin gave Kili's shoulder a squeeze and went back inside, ready to get the information he needed.

“Upon further reflection, I fear you may be right, cousin,” Thorin began. Dain looked up at him, clearly surprised. “I have been deceived. I'm sure of it. The.... halfling... and the elf are clearly after the arkenstone. Please, cousin, tell me where to find them. I wish to bring justice upon them myself.”

Dain looked at Thorin skeptically. “Swear to me I get to pick their punishment?”  
Thorin nodded grimly.  
“I'll lead you to them,” Dain said, with an eager sneer. 

* * * * *

Bilbo looked at his captor appraisingly, and prayed to Yavanna, Mahal, Eru... whoever would listen, that his plan would work. He raised his sword expertly, trying to mimic the way he had seen Thorin stand ready for battle. The dwarf before him lunged, and Bilbo ducked and rolled, then shook his head and sighed pityingly. 

“You call that an attack?” Bilbo scoffed. “Clearly you are not accustomed to fighting someone so much smaller in stature. Not to mention I figured your skill would be better, daring to challenge a hobbit.”  
The dwarf looked confused. “My dear dwarf, do you know nothing of hobbits?” Bilbo asked incredulously.  
“No, I suppose not. What does it matter?”  
“Oh, it matters a great deal. If I were you, I really would reconsider. Your form is utterly dreadful.”

The dwarf gave Bilbo a fierce scowl. “I beg your pardon?!”  
“Terrible really, you seem more of an amateur than a full grown dwarf, tell me, have you even reached your majority yet? I thought dwarves trained from the moment they could walk?”

The dwarf turned nearly purple with absolute fury at Bilbo's accusations. “I'll have you know, halfling, I am most skilled with the sword! How dare you-”  
“I do not wish to offend! It's just.... you are aware we hobbits are known for our swordsmanship, correct?”

The dwarf furrowed his brow further, his confusion deepening.  
“Oh yes, and I was more skilled with a blade than any other in all the Shire! Why do you think Thorin Oakenshield would have chosen me to join on the quest to retake the mountain?”  
The dwarf had the good grace to shrug and shake his head a little. “I did wonder.....”  
“I had to best him in a duel! Oh, make no mistake, he is quite skilled, but he was no match for me, you see.” Bilbo leveled the dwarf with a look of pride, doing his best to conceal his shaking hands and hammering heart.

The dwarf's concern seemed to mount. “Oh. I...” The dwarf looked back at Tauriel, as if searching for confirmation. The elf barely contained her amused grin.  
“It is true, master dwarf. Common knowledge really,” Tauriel nodded grimly at the dwarf, who was looking more and more concerned by the minute.  
“I.... I had no idea!” he stuttered out. He looked around, a bit lost for words, and seemed quite disappointed that his partner in crime had already left to deliver the ransom note.

“Well master dwarf, you're in luck. The Lady Yavanna also blessed hobbits with tender hearts. It just wouldn't be fair to set such fearsome warriors loose without giving them the sense of mercy and a respect for life. Therefore, if you agree to free me, I will let you live.”

The dwarf considered for a moment. They still had the elf to trade for the life of their king, and really, was it worth the risk? He certainly had no intention of giving his life for the mission. “Thank you, master hobbit, you are quite generous. I will lead you to safety, but I will have to keep the elf to secure the release of my king.” 

Bilbo pretended to consider the offer, meeting Tauriel's eye for a moment, just long enough to confirm the elf had managed to work her hands out of the rope that bound them. 

“Alright master dwarf, lead the way.” Bilbo threw his sword down and followed the dwarf to the door. The dwarf was peering around the corner of the hallway, making sure they would not be seen, when Tauriel took up the sword Bilbo had cast aside. Bilbo ducked as the elf ran the dwarf through with one quick strike of the blade. She kicked the dwarf to the ground and smiled at Bilbo. “Now, Master Baggins, shall we return home?”  
“Oh yes, I am quite ready to leave this place,” Bilbo replied dryly.  
The two stepped over their captor and began down the hall, neither very sure of where they were, but Tauriel figured they must still be in the mountain. She hoped for their sakes she was right.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably needs a little more fine tuning, but I'll deal with that later. Enjoy!

Bilbo and Tauriel made their way slowly through the empty halls, jumping at every little sound as they traveled, hoping they were going the right way. They had been walking for quite some time when they rounded another corner and stopped in their tracks. The dark haired dwarf stood right in their path. 

“Bilbo, get behind me,” Tauriel commanded, not taking her eyes off the dwarf before them. Bilbo did as he was told, only because Tauriel held the only weapon between the two of them. She squared off with the dwarf, her movements once again reminding Bilbo of a great mountain cat. The dwarf rushed her, but he was doomed before the start. Tauriel was no untrained orc. She was a seasoned guard captain, and she took no time in disposing of the dwarf with little trouble. 

Bilbo cringed as the elf sneered down at the bloodied dwarf on the cold stone. He hated to see so much death after so many had already given their lives in order to save the mountain. There wasn't time to dwell on such things, knowing the dwarf would not have hesitated to kill one or both of them had he not been killed first.

“Are you ready, Master Baggins?” Tauriel regarded the shaken hobbit.   
“Please, just Bilbo,” he answered as he nodded to the red haired warrior. 

The two continued down winding halls and arched tunnels. The ground started slanting upward as they moved on, and they became more and more confident they were heading the right direction when suddenly, they came upon a party of dwarves.

“Thorin! What are you doing here?” Bilbo ran gratefully into the dwarf's open embrace.   
“Rescuing you, or so I thought,” the king responded. 

“Durin's balls! Tauriel what did they do to you?” Kili yelled out even as he nearly tackled Tauriel. 

“Now's our chance, cousin!” Dain shouted from behind Thorin. He charged forward, ripping Bilbo from Thorin's grasp and slamming him into the wall by the throat. Bilbo's fingers clawed at the hands that held him, tears and spots quickly overtaking his view as the dwarf attempted to squeeze the life from him. 

Thorin was quick to respond. With a metallic clang, he drew his sword. “Take your hands off my hobbit,” Thorin's voice was dangerous, his blade rested against the flesh of Dain's neck. 

“You would risk war with the Iron Hills over this... this.... creature?” Dain spat angrily.  
Thorin's eyes blazed with fury.   
“I would risk war with every dwarven kingdoms of Middle Earth if they threatened my intended,” Thorin responded, voice still low in warning.   
“You are a fool!” Dain's grip tightened and he was determined to take the hobbit out with him. But Thorin was too fast.

He pulled his sword back and with a quick spin, sliced his cousin's head clean from his shoulders. Bilbo rubbed at his throat, coughing and gasping to catch his breath as the dwarf before him collapsed to the ground at his feet. He looked up at Thorin in absolute relief, trying not to let his gaze fall to the carnage before him. 

“There,” Bilbo panted, “now you've rescued me.”

Thorin smiled and swept Bilbo up into his arms again, so thankful to have his hobbit safe in his embrace. Bilbo winced and gasped in pain a bit at Thorin's enthusiasm. The king pulled back to look at his hobbit, then frowned deeply at the state of him. Bilbo's hair was matted with blood at the back of his head, and he was obviously favoring his ribs. There was mud on his feet, and scrapes and scratches on his face, not to mention bruises blooming across his throat where Dain had grasped him. “Bilbo, are you alright?” 

“Master Baggins was quite heroic back there,” Tauriel's voice carried over from behind the two.  
Bilbo smiled sheepishly as Thorin took in the damage to his future niece. 

Tauriel looked a bit worse off than his hobbit. One of her eyes was swelling shut and her face was peppered with cuts and scrapes. Her hair was a tangled mess of mud clinging to the backs of her thighs. Kili held onto the elf desperately, his stance suggesting that somebody would be trying to snatch her up right from his arms. 

“Well, I only created a diversion, allowing Tauriel to slay our guard so we could escape,” Bilbo said modestly.   
“Yes, and to think of a diversion in such peril was brilliant and brave,” the elf insisted. The two smiled at each other, despite the poor state of them, bloodied and bruised and muddy. 

Balin broke the silence, always the voice of reason. “Well, why don't we get you two cleaned up and treat your wounds. And I suppose I will be writing to the Iron Hills of their kings fate.” 

* * * * *

“Thorin, should we be worried about retaliation from the Iron Hills?” Bilbo asked the king. He winced as Thorin smoothed more salve over his battered ribcage. 

“No, I don't think that will be much of an issue. Their king fell to dragonsickness. All who fall under the fever are only cured through death,” Thorin responded.  
“Except for you,” Bilbo countered softly. 

Thorin sighed. “Perhaps. Perhaps I have only managed to temper the rage that comes with the sickness. I felt it. In my veins when I took Dain's head. The fever, the anger, the greed, the jealousy.”  
Bilbo frowned and shook his head. “Thorin, feeling protective over those we love is hardly comparable to dragonsickness.” 

Thorin looked away, obviously set to punish himself and brood over his latest failing. “I endangered you. Just loving you put you in such danger.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo's voice was commanding as he addressed the dwarf, “you look at me right this instant.”   
Thorin begrudgingly met Bilbo's eye, confusion and anguish plain on his face. 

Bilbo shook his head. “Don't you dare. Don't. You. Dare. You will not spend the next few weeks brooding and wallowing in self doubt when I am so clearly happy and eager to continue building a future with you. You will not leave me to go off obsessing over your failings and convincing yourself you are not worthy. I would endure every scrape. Every bruise. Every injury all over again, just to be with you. I don't care that you don't think you are worth it. I know you would do the same for me. Try to deny it. But I know you can't. This is my decision. Mine. And I choose to love you, dammit. Do you hear me, you great fool?”

Thorin blinked up at Bilbo's fierce gaze, caught quite off guard at the hobbit's bluntness. He regarded the hobbit for a moment, as though he had never seen him quite so clearly. Bilbo didn't drop his gaze, his eyes intense and serious as they burned through the king. 

Thorin laughed. He laughed and laughed until his stomach hurt and his eyes filled with tears. Then he cried. He laid his head in Bilbo's lap and cried until his tears ran dry. Great sobs wracked his body as Bilbo ran calming hands through his hair. 

When finally he had managed to control his runaway emotions, Thorin sat up and looked at the hobbit. He sniffed as Bilbo offered him a handkerchief, which he gladly accepted and used to wipe his tear streaked face.

“I'm sorry. Thank you, Bilbo. You're right. This is your choice. And now I make mine. This is much sooner than is customary, but I have never been much for patience.” He pulled out the mithril bead from his pocket and held it out before Bilbo, looking up at him somberly. “You are everything, Bilbo. You are my comfort when I am low, you share in all my joy. You're not afraid to give me a kick when I'm being foolish. You are my everything. Would you please, Bilbo Baggins, do me the extraordinary honor of marrying me? Will you be my consort, and help me as I lead our people, the way you lead me? Share in this life with me, and the next. And I will share your joys and burdens, as you already share in mine.”

Bilbo looked at the shimmering bead and smiled. He shook his head and looked up at Thorin's earnest face. “Of course, you great sod. Of course I will marry you. And... share in all that.... yes. Sweet Yavanna, yes!” Thorin's responding smile was nothing short of radiant as he grabbed Bilbo in another bone crushing embrace. 

“Ah! Ah Thorin! Ribs! Ribs!”  
“Oh! Oh I'm so sorry Bilbo,” Thorin quickly loosened his hold on the hobbit.   
“No, no it's alright. Really. So, what does a dwarven royal wedding entail?” Bilbo asked.  
“Nothing too special. Exchanged vows. Marriage beads woven into braids. A feast, with dancing, music, drinks... I believe the same basic customs as most races.”  
“Yes, yes it sounds pretty standard. Tell me, is there a special cake?”  
Thorin frowned. “Not usually, no. Would you like one?”  
“In the Shire, a wedding cake is customary. And we feed the first piece to each other.”  
“Feed it to each other?”  
“Yes. With our hands.”  
“Really? Well, I'm sure Bombur would be more than happy to bake a most exquisite cake for our wedding.” He smiled down at his future husband and consort.   
“I'm sure he would.” Bilbo leaned in and kissed his silly dwarf. 

Their breathing quickened as they deepened their kiss, Thorin sliding a careful hand over Bilbo's chest as the hobbit wrapped his arms eagerly around the dwarf's neck, pulling him ever closer. Thorin moaned into his mouth, then the door flew open with a bang. 

“Durin's BALLS! What does it take to get you infuriating dwarves to leave us in peace?!”

Thorin and Kili were struck silent by the hobbit's un-hobbitlike outburst. They exchanged an amused look, then drew their gaze back to Bilbo, who was nearly fuming.

“I think spending so much time in our company has had a most horrible influence on you, Mr. Boggins. I couldn't be more proud!” Kili announced with glee.

“Well you can be good and proud as you take your arse right back out that door this instant! And don't you dare come back again tonight unless the mountain is crumbling down!”

Kili simply cackled and cheerfully turned to leave. “Oh, and congratulations, uncles!” he threw over his shoulder on his way out. 

Thorin grinned at his feisty burglar. “You have developed quite a mouth on you, my fiery hobbit.”  
“Yes, well, there are a great many things I would rather be doing with it than yelling at those confounded nephews of yours!”  
“Ours,” Thorin corrected.  
“Must I claim them?”  
Thorin chuckled. “Yes. I'm afraid so.” With that, he kissed Bilbo again, pulling him down to lay under the covers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! Finished!  
> I'm so excited to have finished my first multi-chapter fic! I hope you've enjoyed it!   
> A huge thank you to everyone who has given kudos and commented. You were most encouraging.

In light of the tragic events leading to the death of a king, Dain's son had made the journey to the Lonely Mountain, set on maintaining peace with the ever growing kingdom. After many apologies from both sides, it was decided that the fate of the late king of the Iron Hills would not be disclosed to the public. None wanted to taint Dain's memory with deeds done out of madness. All would be told that Dain had died in battle on his return to the Iron Hills, a respectful warriors death. One that Dain had truly deserved. The suggestion of lying didn't sit well with the honorable dwarves, hobbit, and elf present, but it was agreed that it would be for the best. King Thorin had several wagons of gold prepared from the treasury as a formal apology to the kingdom of the Iron Hills, though it was said it was officially labeled as a gift given in gratitude for trade agreements. The small delegation declined the offer to stay for the braiding ceremony, wishing their best to the happy couple, but ready to mourn the loss of their king and plan the coronation of a new one. 

Two weeks after the dwarves of the Iron Hills departed, the mountain was abuzz with excitement. The braiding ceremony was on the tongues of every dwarf in Erebor. Thorin was to be married and both king and consort crowned. 

Bombur was busy in his kitchens, preparing a specially requested wedding cake, and Balin was at work on all the finer details; Seating arrangements, the marriage contract, and making sure the princes didn't lose the marriage beads.

Bilbo was in his bedchamber, sitting in his chair by the fire, sipping on a cup of tea meant to calm his nerves. “It's no use Ori, I just can't seem to relax! What if I fumble the braiding? Drop the bead? Trip in front of the whole kingdom? Or worse. What if I fail the kingdom? What if they hate me?”  
Ori shook his head. “Now Bilbo, slow down. The dwarves already love you, you've spent months at Thorin's side, proving your dedication and loyalty ten times over.”

Bilbo sighed. “I'm sorry Ori, it's just nerves. I want everything to be perfect.”  
The two looked up at the sound of the door opening.   
“Aw, Fili look at him! He looks a proper royal, all in Durin blue!”  
“You're quite right, brother. He'll make a fine consort,” the blonde responded.  
“Unless of course, he hopelessly screws it all up.” Kili gave Bilbo that devious toothy grin that kind of made the hobbit want to smack him.

Bilbo smiled affectionately and shook his head. Obnoxious as the princes could be, they did mean well, and had spent the last several months assuring Bilbo of their excitement in having him as an uncle. The idea made his heart fit to burst. He had thought of them as family for quite some time. Bilbo stood as the boys walked over, bringing their foreheads to his gently and beaming down at him. 

“You boys are a menace,” Bilbo lamented.  
“Quite right,” came a melodic voice from the door. The brothers stepped back and Bilbo dipped his head in a slight bow.  
“Lady Dis, you are as radiant as ever,” Bilbo greeted the princess. Dis smiled warmly. Bilbo returned the smile, but it faded as quickly as it had come.  
“Have you seen Thorin? How is he?” Bilbo's nerves were doing him no favors.  
“Yes, I have seen my brother. And he is even more of a mess than you are, though he doesn't show it quite so intensely,” his future sister-in-law teased. “Take a deep breath, Bilbo. You'll be fine.” With that, Dis made her way over to Bilbo and embraced him warmly. “Come. It is time.”

The group exited and headed off to the throne room. The halls were uncharacteristically empty and quiet as they walked through the mountain. All were gathered in the throne room to witness the joining and crowning of their new rulers, leaving the rest of the mountain eerily vacant. 

Bilbo tried his best to keep his breathing even. His hands shook and it felt as though he were experiencing everything through a plate of glass. He was so lost in his own mind, even the sound of the princes bantering was a muffled droning to his ears. He kept his gaze at his feet, eyes locked on his toes as he counted his steps in an attempt to distract himself. When finally he managed to look up, he realized they had reached their destination. They were near the side entrance to the front of the throne room. He was to enter from one side, and Thorin from another. 

“Ok Bilbo, this is where we must leave you. Kili and Ori will be here, just follow them. And breathe,” Dis said in parting. She and Fili went around the corridor to meet Thorin on the other side. It was tradition for each party to have either their parents or two esteemed family members lead them in to the room. Since Bilbo had neither present, Ori and Kili had been asked to stand in for him. Both were most honored to have such a role. Kili had leaped about the room shouting and cheering and poor Ori had been reduced to tears of joy when Bilbo had made his request for them to stand in as his family. 

Bilbo smiled at the memory and then realized Ori had already begun making his way into the room in front of him. He tried taking a deep breath, but he could not steady his gasping breath as he entered the room behind Kili. 

So many dwarves were present to witness. So very many. Bilbo began to feel dizzy as a cold sweat beaded at his temples. Dis and Ori stood before Balin, giving their blessing as official family representatives for the marriage. Bilbo couldn't hear what was being said through the fog of is panic, though he could safely assume the blessing was given as Dis with Fili and Ori with Kili walked up to flank the thrones.   
Thrones.   
There were two now, he was expected to fill one of those seats and the pressure was just becoming too much as Bilbo eyed those monumental symbols of power. Of leadership. He closed his eyes and he wondered again what he was thinking. He furrowed his brow and slowly raised his gaze. Time seemed to slow as Bilbo looked up and finally, there he was. Thorin. 

Bilbo's head cleared and his breathing slowed when he met that warm gaze. Thorin's eyes were bright and shining with unshed tears as they walked towards each other, meeting in front of Balin. He smiled up at Thorin and Thorin was smiling down at him and Bilbo's universe seemed to just click into place. It felt right. Everything felt as it should be as Bilbo's hands were taken into large rough ones. He could do this. With Thorin, he could do this. 

* * * * *

The reception was loud, as any would have assumed a party full of dwarves would be. Dis had pulled Bilbo onto the dance floor for about the fifth time when Bombur entered the room with the grandest cake Bilbo had ever seen. He stopped abruptly at the sight, right in the middle of twirling Dis and nearly spun her into Dwalin as Bombur wheeled the cake in. 

“Oh, Bombur! It's beautiful!” Bombur beamed happily at Bilbo's compliment as he parked the cake before the banquet table. 

Bilbo gaped at the many tiered marvel as Thorin's strong arms wrapped around him from behind.  
“Will this suffice, husband?” Thorin asked as he rested his chin softly on Bilbo's shoulder.  
Bilbo nodded. “Yes. Yes it's perfect.”  
“I think it's time for that Shire tradition you were talking about.”   
Bilbo glanced sideways at Thorin, an air of mischief in his smile.   
“Oh yes, I think you're quite right.” 

The two moved to stand beside the cake. It was truly a marvel. Six perfect white tiers, each accented in Durin blue along the top in geometric patterns and along the bottom in floral blooms. Bilbo hated to destroy such a beautiful piece of culinary art, but a cake is meant for eating. He picked up a knife from the table and moved closer to Thorin. They grasped the knife together, and cut the first slice of cake. They exchanged warm smiles and scooped the piece onto a plate, holding it between themselves. Each took up a little piece in hand, carefully lifting it to the others lips. 

Bilbo had of course explained the tradition to Thorin beforehand, so all would go smoothly. However, he did not let Thorin in on one little detail. As Bilbo's hand neared the kings mouth, he opened his fingers and thrust it forth, effectively smearing the cake over most of the bottom of Thorin's face. 

Thorin looked at Bilbo in shock as the hobbit giggled. The dwarves were in fits of laughter, Fili and Kili holding their stomachs as they staggered against each other in mirth. Even Balin and Dori were chuckling behind their hands. 

Thorin's look of disbelief turned into a sneer of revenge as he grabbed Bilbo's arm and began drawing him in closer. 

“Now Thorin, let's not get carried away,” Bilbo managed out between giggles.  
“Carried away? I wouldn't dream of it.” With that, Thorin yanked Bilbo into a sloppy kiss, smearing the mess all over the hobbit's face. Bilbo pulled back smiling, smears of white and blue frosting decorating his elated face. Thorin looked lovingly back at him, his eyes sparkling beautifully. 

Bilbo could get used to this. He could get used to drowning in the love of his husband.  
The love of a blacksmith. The love of a warrior. The love of a king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously considering making this a series. I really think I can do better, but I need the practice!  
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
